Out of the Darkness
by Gwdihw
Summary: Set a few months after Season 3, Jimmy struggles with his own identity and needs someone to confide in.
1. The Darkness within me

Chapter one: Darkness within me

The film was dull, but I expected it would be. I've never been one for love stories, and the sight of the dashing actor and the beautiful actress fluttering their eyelashes at each other and sighing in dramatic silence bored me. Judging from her rapt expression, Ivy wasn't the least bit bored. She leant forward in her seat, drinking in the scene. On the other side of Ivy, Alfred was glowering at me, clearly telling me not to thwart his attempt to charm the comely kitchen maid. I rolled my eyes and waited for it to be over.

It was rare enough to be allowed out for the evening and I wanted to enjoy it, but I wished there were a better way to enjoy a few hours off than in a dark room watching sickly sweet romances.

'Wasn't Agnes Ayres beautiful,' Ivy sighed dreamily as we left. 'And Rudolph-'

'I thought the ending was really good,' Daisy interrupted. 'What did you think, Alfred?' she asked sweetly with a sideways glance at the footman.

'T'were alright,' he shrugged lankily. God, even the way he shrugs is irritating.

The three of them discussed the film and I fell back a bit. It was a nice night, and I wanted the chance to think before getting back to the house. After a few minutes, however, Ivy slowed her pace to join me at the back.

'How are you, Jimmy?' she asked softly. 'I feel as though we haven't spoken properly for ages.

'I'm not bad, Ivy,' I answered pleasantly. She was walking too close to me and I had an inkling of what would happen. Alfred whipped his ginger head around and gave me a death stare, but there was an extra spring in Daisy's step.

'Is Daisy still giving you a hard time?' I asked, lowering my voice.

Ivy laughed. 'No, she's getting better, getting used to me, I think. Thanks for asking, though. It's good to know you're looking out for me.'

'Of course I am,' I lied easily. Even in the dark I could see her blushing. Daisy and Alfred were even further ahead of us by then, so it seemed the moment to lean in for a kiss.

Everyone else had gone to bed, so I stole into Carson's pantry and helped myself to the scotch. I needed a drink. My hands fumbled over the top and I slopped the golden liquid into a glass. I knocked it back, revelling in the instant warmth.

What was wrong with me?

Stopping myself while I was still conscious and not in danger of vomiting all over Carson's floor, I made my way upstairs, heading for bed.

I was about to go into the room I shared with Alfred, who was already snoring contentedly, when I was seized by what my drunken self considered to be a better idea.

I stormed into Mr Barrow's room and switched on the light, slamming the door shut.

'What did you do to me?!' I demanded, stamping my foot.

Mr Barrow squinted at me, disorientated.

'Jimmy?' he asked. He was still half asleep.

'You must have done something to me, you've broken me!' I said angrily.

He was waking up now, rubbing his eyes. 'What on earth are you on about?' he mumbled.

'I- I kissed Ivy tonight,' I told him, trying to reign in my unreasonable anger. 'I didn't feel anything. Not a bloody thing!'

Mr Barrow yawned, pulling himself up to sitting position A slow realisation was dawning in his eyes. 'Maybe you just don't like Ivy?' he suggested kindly.

I shook my head vehemently. 'It's been the same, it's always felt the same, a sense of... nothing.' I buried my face in my hands. 'Until that night when you came into my room, I never thought a kiss could feel different.'

Mr Barrow didn't say anything at first, just looked at me.

'What are you trying to say?' he asked.

I shuddered, trying to stop myself crying. 'What's wrong with me? Why am I like this? I don't want to be this way.'

Mr Barrow hunched his shoulders into a shrug and looked me in the eyes, searching hopelessly, dispiritedly.

'I can't answer that. I don't think there really is an explanation,' he answered softly.

I couldn't stop myself letting out an anguished moan. I didn't know what I expected him to say but I was glad my brain was too soaked with alcohol to be able to distinguish my emotions properly. The fuzzy ones I was feeling were far too painful as it was.

'Look, it isn't the end of the world,' he said. He gave me the tiniest of smiles, trying to console me. I was inconsoloble.

Mr Barrow reached forward to touch my hand gently, sending a spark of... _something _running through me. Desire? No, it was stronger, it was need. I snatched my hand away instinctively, not wanting any part of if, not wanting this mess.

In some way, I'd always known that it was better not to let myself feel. I could sense a sort of darkness in me, and it was only now that I was realising what that darkness was.

'Don't touch me!' I hissed.

'Sorry,' he said hastily. 'I didn't mean it in that way. I only meant that if you need someone to talk to about it, I understand. I've been through this.'

I could hardly imagine that. Whatever I thought of Mr Barrow, I could never help but admire his confidence, his unshakeable self-belief. I'd been eavesdropping when he'd told Mr Carson that 'he was not foul', listening in from the dining room, hoping to hear him humiliated.

My jaw had dropped.

'I'm not like you, but I'm not foul,' he'd repeated simply. How could he be so sure? I'd imagined he would stand in front of the pope and all his bishops, and even God himself, and assert surely that there was nothing wrong with him.

'Just don't touch me. Ever,' I mumbled, shuddering.

This was a bad idea. Talking to Tho-Mr Barrow made it seem to real, and I didn't want that. I wanted my safe blanket of denial back, I wanted to tell myself that kissing Ivy was alright, really. It wasn't horrible, at least.

_But it wasn't nice, either,_a wistful little voice sighed within me. _It wasn't like that time when you heard Thomas creak into your room late at night. You knew it was him and not Alfred because of the scent of peppery cologne and cigarette smoke. You waited with anticipation for his lips to fall onto yours, for just a few golden seconds. His lips were warm, soft and tantalising. It didn't matter, though, because you were 'asleep', that's your story and you're sticking to it!_

'Forget I said anything!' I muttered as I turned to go.

'I can't do that. I'm sorry, but I can't forget,' he said.

I managed to stop myself from slamming the door as I left, angry at myself.

'I just want to be normal,' I sighed hopelessly at the air. 'Is that so much to ask?' The air didn't answer back, funnily enough. Maybe things would look better in the morning.


	2. Staying in the Shadows

Chapter Two: Staying in the Shadows

I woke up with a pounding hangover and a dim recollection of the previous night. Had I really stormed into Mr Barrow's room, ranting about how he had broken me and ruined my life?

'Get up, we're going to be late,' Alfred muttered roughly, swinging himself out of bed.

'Don't order me about!' I snarled automatically. Things were bad enough without him forgetting that _I_ was the first footman around here.

At breakfast, Ivy appeared from the kitchen with an expression of rapt ecstasy which might have been appropriate for winning the lottery or getting engaged to someone far richer than you, but not so appropriate for presenting toast. I wondered for a second what she was so pleased about; she then shot me a look of pure adoration and I realised why she was so happy. She probably thought we were an item now. Damn!

'Good morning, Jimmy,' she simpered. I braced myself and smiled.

I resolutely ignored Mr Barrow staring at me from the other side of the table, his pretty blue eyes like magnets.

'I had a wonderful time last night, Ivy, we should do it again,' I forced myself to say loudly. She blushed and Mr Carson made a disapproving harrumphing noise.

'Why can't you let me have her?!' Alfred complained angrily later. 'I like Ivy more than you do – you're only interested because she's there. I really like her though,' he beseeched with his most potent puppy-dog expression. I rolled my eyes. The two of us were alone in the servant's hall, catching a few minutes for a break in the lull of mid-afternoon. One of the perks of being a footman is that you can relax a little at this time of day.

'God, get over it!' I told him, uncrossing my arms and reaching for a cigarette. 'Ivy likes me and that isn't going to change any time soon!' I knew I was gloating but I couldn't help it.

'But you don't even like her,' he repeated.

I shrugged. 'Maybe not, but that's nothing to do with you, is it? Look,' I added, taking another drag of smoke. 'There's plenty of more fish in the sea. Forget about Ivy and look elsewhere for a sweetheart.'

He scowled, jamming his hands in his pockets. 'Like where? We never get a chance to leave Downton for very long. I can't just go down the village to meet someone.'

'Open your eyes, nitwit, there are other girls working here apart from Ivy,' I pointed out. He couldn't see the bloody wood for the trees, that one!

'Like who?' he asked dubiously.

'Well, there's Daisy for a start,' I told him slowly, as though teaching the three Rs to a particularly dim child. 'She's alright, and she's clearly mad for you. Ask her to go walking out with you,' I advised. Why I was getting involved in Alfred the Giant's love life was a mystery to me.

'Come off it!' he protested. 'How could I fancy Daisy when Ivy's around? She's about as attractive as a stick!' he said.

Unfortunately, at that very moment, as so often seemed to happen at Downton, Daisy was passing in the hallway. Alfred, with his back to the door didn't see her hurt face and the tears well up in her eyes. She stormed off briskly and silently.

'Oh, you are an idiot,' I groaned.

'Why?' he said, frowning.

'Never mind. But, you know, Daisy was married – someone must have liked her a whole lot!' I pointed out. 'Now, if you will excuse me,' I added sarcastically, stubbing out my cigarette.

Daisy was in the larder, trying to control herself. I leant against the doorframe to talk to her.

'He didn't mean that,' I said softly.

'Course he did!' she quavered. 'He wouldn't have said it otherwise.' I couldn't argue with that. Truth was, the big clot _had_ meant it.

'Well, if he did, he's an idiot, and you're better off forgetting him!' I put my hand on her shoulder, the only thing I really knew what to do when people were upset.

'_What_ is going on here?' came the screeching voice of Mrs Patmore from behind us. 'Daisy, I said 'get some cooked ham' not 'grope some footman'!' Her voice, as it always did, echoed throughout the floor.

Sure enough, when I went into the kitchen later, Ivy was red-eyed and livid and Alfred looked as though it was his birthday.

Mr Barrow walked in and I continued to ignore him. He glanced around the room.

'What's wrong with everyone?' he asked curiously.

'Ask that cheating rat!' Ivy said, bursting into fresh tear, pointing a finger at me.

'Nothing even happened,' Daisy repeated.

'As though I'd believe anything you say!' Ivy sobbed. 'You've always had it out for me, always! I should have known you were just trying to get your claws into Jimmy!'

Mr Barrow looked highly amused.

'Well, aren't you the little heartthrob,' he teased innocently. I glowered back.

Everybody had gone to bed. Ivy was probably crying herself to sleep. Tomorrow, I would explain everything after she'd had a chance to calm down.

The only two people left downstairs were me and Mr Barrow. I should probably have left – I didn't want to give tongues an excuse to wag – but I didn't want it to seem as though I was running away from him, either.

'So,' Mr Barrow started leisurely. 'How long are you going to keep stringing Ivy along for?'

'I-' my words caught in my throat. I was going to protest and say that I actually liked Ivy, but he never would have believed that. 'I'm not going to give in to it,' I said resolutely. 'I'm stronger than that.'

'You're not going to give in to what?' Mr Barrow pressed gently. 'You have to admit what you're feeling, if only to yourself. You need to be honest about who you are.'

I shook my head furiously. 'No.'

We were completely alone, yet our voices had dropped to the softest, most hushed whispers. Even skirting around the issue was forbidden.

'I don't have to admit anything. I can make things better with Ivy. She's a nice, pretty girl. Maybe we can get married in a couple of years, move into a cottage, have lots of better-than-average-looking babies.'

Mr Barrow contemplated. 'Yes, your children would be very attractive. But would you be happy? Would going to bed with Ivy make you happy?'

No, it wouldn't make me happy. It would be a duty. But then, I heard that after a while married couples didn't have to do it so often.

For a brief second, my ridiculous brain shoves an image into my consciousness of me and Mr Barrow in one of those cottages. Tearing clothes off each other, hands groping and exploring, wet mouths and lips trailing and playing games on each other's skin.

I smacked the vision out of my head, but it was too late. Drinking the last of my tea, I was eternally grateful that I was sitting down when that image came into my mind.

'It's none of your business what makes me happy,' I said firmly.

'It is my business. Last night, you made your happiness my business. I can't sit and watch as you stumble down a path which will only lead to misery and regret. You won't be happy and, despite the best of your intentions, you won't make Ivy happy either.'

He was wrong. Everyone had desires they were unable to act upon, urges they had to ignore. That was part of being human. Another part of being human was to ignore your dark side and live your life as God intended. Some people were alcoholics, gluttons, gamblers, or prone to murderous tendencies, while my sin was that I liked… I wanted… well, you know.

'I've always wanted to ask you,' I started, knowing I was going to regret it. 'I've always wanted to ask if you've ever felt ashamed.'

'No,' he said simply. 'I've never felt ashamed of being attracted to men. I've felt ashamed of being horrible to people when I'm in a bad mood, of letting O'Brien convince me to do things which were morally unsound, and of locking his lordship's Labrador in a shed in the woods, but I've never been ashamed of that.'

He raised more questions than he answered.

'Isis?' I asked suspiciously.

'That's a story for another night,' he grinned, getting to his feet. 'Now, I'm off to bed, to dream of you. Dream of me, if your conscience allows it.'


	3. It Gets so Lonely at Night

Chapter three: It Gets so Lonely at Night

I'd made up with Ivy, and after weeks of depressed moping from Alfred, everyone had pretty much got the message that Ivy and I were sweethearts. His face was so long I could hear a mournful solo violin whenever I looked at him.

When word finally got around to Carson and Mrs Hughes, they took us aside separately to have 'the talk'. Being alone in a room with Carson as he tried for quarter of an hour to tell us not to sleep together was about the most excruciatingly embarrassing thing that had ever happened to me.

'Well, Jimmy, I understand that you and Ivy have become 'good friends'?' he put rather delicately.

Deciding not to push him, I responded with a respectful. 'That's right, Mr Carson, I'm very fond of her.'

'Yes, yes.' After a few more false starts, he added. 'While I have no objection to friendliness, or even an understanding that it might develop into an engagement someday, I ought to remind you that you are both very early on in your careers and it would be a shame to marry… or to _have to_ marry so soon,' he stressed.

'I understand perfectly, Mr Carson,' I said to put him out of his misery.

'That's good. And I trust you also understand that any _hanky panky_ between members of staff is strictly forbidden.' I wondered how much it cost him to say 'hanky panky' and I stifled a grin.'

'Of course.'

'And if it were to happen that Ivy- well, that she got in the family way, it would work out very badly for you both. I'm afraid you would have to leave Downton.'

'Absolutely, Mr Carson. I respect Ivy and the rules of this house,' I said seriously. Not to mention the fact that 'getting Ivy in the family way', as he put it, had very little appeal to me.

By the relief on Carson's face, I could tell that my little lecture was over. He dismissed me and I gratefully left. From the mortified expression on Ivy's face, I assumed that she had received the same chat with Mrs Hughes, although presumably with less preamble. With Mrs Hughes' no-nonsense style, it was probably just 'up the duff, out the door'.

When I came downstairs to bring down dirty glasses from the dining room, there was just Daisy in the kitchen, double checking a recipe for later. She smiled when she saw me.

'I'm really glad that you and Ivy are friends again,' she said as she took the glasses from me to wash.

'Yeah, it keeps old Alfred away from her!' I teased.

She blushed crimson. 'Not- not, because of that,' she protested.

'Oh?' I said disbelievingly.

'No,' she said firmly. 'I've given up on him. Like you said the other day, if he doesn't think I'm pretty, I'm better off not wasting my time.' She looked so down that I had the distinct impression that she'd not had the best luck when it came to romance.

'Well, good for you!' I said briskly. 'Anyway, I've been meaning to ask you, what's going on with that farmer of yours? Are you going to go and run the farm for him?'

She shrugged, her eyes staring off a little into the distance as she imagined the farm and what kind of life it would offer her. 'Maybe. I've been thinking about it more and more lately, actually. Imagining what it would be like. But then, didn't you say that Mr Matthew and Mr Branson are turning Downton into a business and buying land from the farmers? So where will that leave Mr Mason's farm?'

I could only shrug. 'I don't know. The world is changing, alright, becoming more efficient. Suppose it's still too soon to tell who the losers are going to be.' I tried to keep my voice light and upbeat.

We all got our half days at Downton, but rarely at the same time, so we didn't often get to do things together, apart from when there was a special showing at the cinema or a fair in town. However, a few weeks after my awkward conversation with Carson, it was Alfred's twenty-first birthday. He wasn't much in the mood for celebrating, but twenty-one doesn't roll around every day, and Carson granted us permission to go down the village for a few drinks at the local pub.

'If any of you come back drunk, I will have Mrs Patmore boil you for tomorrow's dinner,' he promised solemnly. We all vowed to have two pints each and no more, on our honour.

It was a cold, slightly drizzling night, but nothing could put a damper on our spirits. Apart from Alfred and myself, a couple of hall boys called John and Danny, and Cillian, the chauffer, made our way over to 'The Grantham Arms'. We were surprised that his lordship had chosen to employ another Irishman to drive him around, considering what happened last time.

'Pint of bitter, love,' John said to the barmaid as soon as we entered, slamming his palm enthusiastically on the counter. 'And whatever the birthday boy wants!'

Alfred nodded his thanks glumly and asked for ale.

Five ales later and the glum expression had quite evaporated.

'Come on, Alfred, finish your drink, my lad, you're miles behind the rest of us!' Cillian boomed. 'By heck, you'd never make an Irishman!' I smiled as the rest of the table exploded with hearty laughter.

It wasn't that I couldn't finish my drink, but the misty haze of alcohol descending upon me never seemed to inspire joviality such as it often did with others. I was a quiet, sombre drunk, confused by the spin of my own thoughts. I could never be quite at ease with the fact that my mind was not truly my own when I was under the influence, and I didn't like to take more than I had to. Unless I was depressed, of course.

The boys had other ideas.

Midnight saw us stumbling blindly out of the tavern (thrown out, more likely, but I can't quite remember), singing a jaunty tune and trying to make out the path back to the estate in the pitch black. I believe we may have lost one of the hall boys along the way as he collapsed in drunken stupor in the woods.

Oh, my head, how it spun, how it threw up thoughts which I managed to keep at bay most of the time! Desire I refused to acknowledge when sober flooded my brain, flooding me with a dangerous lust like a thirst. As much as I tried to conjure tantalising images of Ivy to slake that thirst, imagining the soft, pale flesh swelling into gentle curves beneath the touch of my fingers, it was not that type of flesh my body wanted. I craved—no – I blocked out the thought. No, I didn't want that, that wasn't me, it was the alcohol. Drink turned you into a different person, everyone knew that was true. Just look at the swaying buffoons around me!

It wasn't me, it was the drink. _Following that logic,_ my brain argued thoughtfully. _If it's just the drink, then you're not to blame for anything which might or might not happen tonight. It doesn't matter what you do when you're drunk. John ate a turd on a dare ten minutes ago and nobody judged him for it._ My brain had a fair point. What happened in drunk land, stayed in drunk land.

We arrived at the house, safe and sound minus one hall boy. Carson would probably have him drawn and quartered when he turned up the next day.

'Where you going, Jimmy?' Alfred mumbled as I hung back.

'Going to have a piss in the woods,' I called back. My voice was distorted and didn't sound like mine. Alfred shrugged and followed the other lads upstairs.

I gave it a couple of minutes, just so I was sure they wouldn't hear my footsteps behind them on the stairs. I didn't have to worry about Alfred, he'd be asleep and snoring within seconds of his head hitting the pillow, assuming he managed to make it all the way to bed.

Nobody would ever know.


	4. Dark Intentions

Chapter four: Dark Intentions

It was so dark and the steps seemed to move as I tried to put my feet on them. Squinting, I tried to make them out, but I tripped a fair few times as I wended my way upwards.

Inside, I felt drunker than ever as the walls seemed to shrink to encompass me.

I arrived in the men's corridor in one piece, hanging onto the wall to keep myself straight. In my state, all the doors looked the same to me, a labyrinth.

This one? No.

Or this? I peered at the name of the door. It still said 'Thomas', even though he had been 'Mr Barrow' for well over a year. I wondered idly why it had never been changed before pushing the door open.

He slept curled on his side with one arm supporting his head. Without light, I could make out no more details, but I didn't need to. His mere outline, cloaked in shadows, was enough to spur on my desire.

I closed the door behind me and threw myself on the bed. My hands flew to Thomas' sleeping form and, managing to find his mouth, I kissed him roughly and fiercely.

It was hardly surprising that he woke almost immediately, startled and flailing.

'What the-' he started to cry out.

'Shhh, it's me, it's just me,' I murmured in his ear, biting his earlobe gently, or as gently as someone who's drunk half a tavern can.

'Ow! Jimmy?'

He turned the light on.

'What's going on?' he asked, confused. Why was he confused? Why was he looking at me like I was crazy? And why was his raven hair falling into his eyes with such dishevelled grace?

'Jimmy, your head is bleeding,' he whispered.

I shrugged. 'Fell on the stairs.' My words don't quite come out properly, they tripped and slurred.

'You're steaming drunk, Jimmy,' Thomas sighed. He looked anguished for some reason, sad. I didn't see why he was holding me back, stopping my hands from touching him.

'I want you. Let me have you,' I urged. His hands pinning back my wrist wavered slightly as though he would leave them go, but then he didn't.

'My darling,' he started, his voice heavy with emotion. 'You can't imagine how much I love you… but you're really, _really_ drunk.' He looked distraught. 'It wouldn't be right. It wouldn't.'

I couldn't quite grasp what he was saying, couldn't realise that he was turning me away.

'No, you lying,' I mumbled, burying my face in his neck, wrapping my arms around him. 'Please. C'mon.'

He gently pulled me away from him, stroked my hair. 'It wouldn't be right. I couldn't do it.'

I'm kissing him again, feeling the sweet softness of his lips, and my hands trail down his chest, falling to rest on his crotch.

'Think you could,' I teased, glancing downwards. He blushed, just a little, just enough to make me want to touch him all the more, feel the heat of his flushed skin.

'I could, but I won't. Not like this.'

Exhausted by my swimming head and by all the contrasting emotions I was feeling, I started to cry.

'It's alright,' Thomas soothed, wiping away my tears.

'No, it's not. I thought- thought that if I was drunk then wouldn't matter if I did anything. But you won't have me when I'm drunk… and I won't have you when I'm sober,' I said hopelessly.

'That does leave us in quite a pickle,' Thomas admitted, but he was smiling.

I wished with all my heart I'd never gone in there. It had only served to make the situation so much worse, so much more convoluted than before.

'I feel sick,' I groaned.

'Sickened by the situation or physically ill?' he asked warily.

'Physically. I need a bucket.'

Just in time, I managed to get out of the room at into the washroom across the hall where I vomited spectacularly into a chamber pot. It was the only thing I could get my hands on.

Thomas rubbed my back soothingly and brought me a cup of water ready for when I'd stopped.

'Will that cure me?' I asked hopefully.

'Ha ha, no. You're going to feel worse for wear tomorrow and no mistake. Only death will cure you now.'

Thomas directed me back to my own room to 'sleep it off'.

The next day hurt so much; it's best not to talk about it.

'Jimmy,' Ivy started, fluttering her eyelashes winningly in a way I'd already started to dread. 'We both have a half day tomorrow. You should take me down to the village.'

'To be honest, after the state I was in last week, I don't think Mr Carson's going to want me going any further than the garden gate. He'll make me sit in my room and stew as punishment.'

Her face fell perceptibly.

'You and John both,' Cillian agreed, grinning from ear to ear. 'Blimey, the two of you drink like a couple of girls.'

John glared stonily at him as he finished his broth.

'Well, it's no wonder we can't keep up when you probably had Guinness mixed in with your mother's milk,' John said sulkily.

Cillian just rolled his eyes. 'There's no need for Anti-Irish slurs, now, this is a civilised table. Daisy, my lovely, would you be a darling and fetch me another buttered roll?'

Later that day, for the first time since my embarrassing drunken assault, Mr Barrow and I ended up alone together in the dining hall.

There was a minute's excruciatingly awkward silence.

'So,' he said eventually. 'I've snogged you while you were asleep, now you've snogged me while I was asleep. I'd say we're even.'

'It wasn't the same thing,' I muttered.

'Not at all. _I _was bloody gentle. You left a bite mark on my ear.

I winced, remembering. 'Please don't.'

'Don't be embarrassed,' he smiled. 'We've all done daft things when we're drunk, me included. A few years ago, we had the Viscount of Chester over to stay and he gave me all sorts of glances as I was serving him at dinner. After a few glasses of wine, I decided to sneak into his room, starkers.

Of course, it was only as I was leaning in to kiss him that I realised that I was so drunk that I must have wandered down the wrong corridor and I was leaning over Lady Edith!'

I couldn't help but giggle.

'That may be the only time that Lady Edith will ever be in the same room as a naked man,' I said.

'God, probably. And she wasn't even conscious to appreciate it. Anyway, my point is that you take risks when you're well-oiled. Trick is to be able to tell between the good risks and the bad risks.' He looked serious again and I was sorry to be in the conversation. I didn't want to have a serious conversation about what happened.

I stood up, made as though to head upstairs, then changed my mind. I turned around, looked at my hands as I decided how to frame what I was going to say.

'Look, I don't want you bringing this up again. I just don't think it's a very good idea,' I said resolutely and calmly. To my relief, he didn't try and change my mind.

'If you think it's for the best,' he said, stabbing his cigarette out sadly.

'I really do.'

And I really did, too. Although, I couldn't figure out why on earth, as I was climbing the stairs, my chest would feel so constricted or my breathing would be so tight and panicked.


	5. Black Fantasies

Chapter Five: Black Fantasies

By the time that Alfred has recovered from what he saw as the loss of Ivy, despite the fact that he never had her in the first place, it was winter again. He was not, however, going to be receiving any comforting warmth from Daisy. He seemed very disappointed to find she'd got over him, and I was unduly smug about the fact that he was left with no one.

'What are you getting Ivy for Christmas?' Daisy asked me one day in early December.

'Oh, I don't know. Chocolate?' I suggested.

Daisy shook her head. 'Jimmy! You two have been sweethearts for months! That means you need to get her something special,' she reasoned. I could sort of see her point, but I wasn't exactly sure what counted as a 'special' present. My perfect present would be a packet of cigarettes or maybe a kitten with a bow around its neck. I've always been a cat person.

'Does Ivy smoke?' I asked Daisy. 'Does she have any allergies?'

Daisy sighed dramatically as she put a pan on the table. 'Just get her something pretty. Girls like pretty things.'

'Where am I supposed to buy something pretty?' I asked.

'Well, there's a Christmas Market coming to Malton next week. Mr Carson has already said we can go because the family are going up to Duneagle Castle. You can have a look around for something nice then.'

It seemed like an excellent plan and I thanked her.

'What are you thanking her for?' Ivy asked suspiciously, coming back into the kitchen. She'd never quite managed to let go of her mistrust.

'You'll see soon enough, my love,' I said with a wink. She relaxed into a smile. Mrs Patmore just huffed in amusement, having witnessed the whole thing. Even though she complained that we all stood around flirting instead of getting on with some actual work, I had always rather suspected that Mrs Patmore enjoyed the show and gossip.

'Get going, you!' Mrs Patmore said sharply, chivvying me out of the kitchen. 'You're not paid to stand there making moon-eyes at my maids.'

The Crawley men (a blanket term which had come to include Mr Branson) ate lunch alone that day, as Lady Crawley had taken Lady Mary to Ripon and Lady Edith was down in London again.

The three of them were deep in conversation when I entered the room, barely noticing when I put their plates in front of them.

'We really should raise the rent on the Norton farm,' Mr Branson argued heatedly. 'With all the new technology he's had, the profit he's making from the land has increased dramatically this past year. The land is of good quality, and the rent needs to reflect that.' It never failed to amaze me the metamorphosis that Mr Branson had made so quickly from communist to capitalist.

'Yes, well, let's lunch and think about it,' his Lordship said evasively. 'So, Matthew, do you know why the girls have gone into Ripon. Is it just for some last minute Christmas gifts?'

'Well, not just that,' Mr Matthew said, grinning a little to himself. 'She's starting to show, you know, so she needs to have some new dresses.'

'It's grand to think that by Easter Sybbie won't be the only baby in the house anymore. She needs some friends,' Mr Branson said warmly.

'They're talking about babies again upstairs,' I sighed when I brought the dirty plates down to the kitchen.

'Oh, how nice,' Ivy said. 'I love babies.'

'Shelve that thought for ten years,' Mrs Patmore ordered. I rather agreed with her.

I left the kitchen, passing Mr Barrow on the way out and avoiding his eye contact. We hadn't spoken apart from pleasantries in months, not since I told him not to bring up the last time I got drunk.

There had been several times, though, when I had found myself wanting to speak to Mr Barrow about something or sharing a funny story, but I had stopped myself. I realised that I sort of missed him. Despite the complications of our relationship, I couldn't deny that he was one of the few people I could truly be myself with. Neither could I deny that I felt a strange fluttering sensation whenever he sat too close to me or said anything to me, even if that something was as inconsequential as 'good morning'.

'Are you coming to the Christmas Market on Sunday?' I asked Mr Barrow with would-be indifference.

He stopped and turned towards me, surprised. I suppose it had been a while since I'd initiated a conversation.

'Yes, I think so. It'll be nice to get out of the house and have a look around. Malton's always lovely this time of your and the market doesn't disappoint.'

'I've never been before,' I said.

'No, Carson doesn't usually let us go. There are all sorts of Christmassy things and trinkets for the girls to coo over,' he joked.

'I need to buy something there for Ivy,' I blurted out without meaning to. I could feel my colour rising and Mr Barrow raised an eyebrow critically. In a crowded hallway where anyone might have overheard us, he wasn't going to ask the question out loud, but it's obvious what he was thinking.

Luckily, Mrs Hughes appeared at that moment and told me off for dawdling, so I had an excuse to make myself scarce.

Why did I regret saying that?

It bothered me for the rest of the day, nagging at my thoughts as I carried trays and opened doors and did other footmanly tasks. I sat down to dinner, still wondering why I cared so much about what Mr Barrow thought. I mean, I knew I felt a slight unnatural attraction towards him which would soon fade in time, of course, once I was married. But that didn't explain what I was feeling now.

'Mr Carson, is it really true that we're allowed to go and see the market in Malton when the family leaves for Duneagle?' Ivy asked happily.

'I have decided to allow it, yes,' Carson admitted tersely. 'Especially with the new lights this year, it would be a shame for you to miss it.'

'Lights?' I asked.

'They announce it a few weeks ago. Malton council have bought some electric Christmas lights that they're going to decorate the town centre with,' Mrs Hughes explained. Ivy's eyes were as wide as saucers.

'It sounds magical,' she breathed.

'Sounds like a waste of money,' Mr Barrow countered, putting his cigarette to his lips. God, I wish I was a cigarette- no, I don't! Shut up, brain!

'Jimmy, you've gone red, are you feeling alright?' Mrs Hughes asked, concerned.

'I'm okay, I'm just feeling quite warm,' I said hurriedly.

I went to bed that night confused. I'd been fine for ages, but my mind was starting to act up again. I splashed some cold water on my face and curled up in bed. Alfred was already deep asleep, untroubled by strange desires.

I tried to doze off but I couldn't, tossing and turning and hounded by dark thoughts. The main issue was that there was one specific part of my body which refused to lie down and go to sleep. Unfortunately, ignoring it and hoping it would go away wasn't working.

I groaned. Allowing my hand to drift downwards into my pyjama bottoms, I imagined Thomas was in the bed with me. I remembered that night when he crept into my room, except I tweaked the ending. This time, Alfred didn't interrupt us, didn't even exist to me.

Thomas' lips clung to mine as we kissed deeply, then pulled away and lingered on my neck, planting hot, wet kisses there. He glanced into my eyes briefly, grinned wickedly, then headed south, kissing my chest and stomach. Oh, lord. His hands caressed my inner thighs maddeningly.

The fantasy was progressing further than it had ever gone before and I was powerless to stop it.

But I felt dirty and I felt ashamed, curling up into the tiniest ball when it was over.

**I have the feeling I'm going to have to upgrade this story to an M rating soon, oops.**


	6. Night so Fair

Chapter Six: Night so Fair

We took an afternoon bus over to Malton; I sat next to Ivy and she insisted on holding my hand the whole way there, beaming.

True to her word, once we arrived, Daisy pulled Ivy away to look at something, leaving me free to browse the gift stalls. I hovered over a promising-looking table full of shiny objects and picked up a small brass mirror with little engravings of flowers in it.

'Ivy'll like that,' Mr Barrow said from behind me. He sidled up beside me, skin-tinglingly close. 'It's pretty. Get her something for her hair as well, something so that she can dress herself up for you. Like this!'

He plucked a little blue rose from the stall and put it in my hair before I could do anything to stop him. I glanced around, panicked, but there didn't seem to be anyone we knew about.

'Although,' Mr Barrow continued, grinning. 'I'd say the blue is more your colour than Ivy's.'

'Why?' I asked sarcastically. 'Do I look pretty?'

He snickered then leaned in to whisper in my ear. 'Delectable.'

I pulled the flower out and put it back.

'Just the mirror, please,' I told the stall-owner as she waddled over to our side.

By this time, it was starting to get dark and more crowded as people arrived to see the lights switched on. Small children screamed and giggled as they ran about in high spirits and made a general nuisance of themselves.

'We'd get a better view from up there,' Mr Barrow, jerking his head towards the hill sloping upwards. 'If you don't mind a walk.'

I shrugged nonchalantly.

We sat down on the grassy bank overlooking the square which offered us a full view of the Christmas decorations. After about ten minutes, the lights on the Christmas tree were turned on and everybody gasped in awe.

'They are quite nice, I suppose,' Mr Barrow murmured softly. 'The lights.'

'I knew you had a sentimental side!' I teased.

'Better not tell anyone,' he warned. 'I may have to kill you to keep you silent!'

'Ah, you wouldn't do that,' I said.

I knew it was dangerous territory I was floating into and I knew I might end up regretting flirting like that, but sitting in the darkness far from the crowd lowered my wariness.

Our shoulders were just brushing, so that when the fireworks whistled up into the air and exploded, I felt him stiffen. I glanced sideways; his expression was taut.

'You okay?' I whispered.

He laughed, but it was shaky and forced. 'Yes, just… never quite managed to get over explosions and bangs after being in the trenches. Never mind me!' He said lightly.

I wanted to reach over and grab his hand but I stopped myself. It would have been bad enough for people to see us alone together without making it worse.

'We should probably head back down,' I said.

'If you think it's best,' he answered.

'Come on, you know it's for the best!' I told him. Why was he always trying to tempt me like that? Didn't he realise that it was torture as it was?

'Why do you even keep trying to convince me that this is a good idea? Hasn't your life been really hard?' I asked.

'Oh, yes, definitely, it's been terribly difficult. But I know my life would have been ten times worse if I'd tried to ignore it. Perhaps that's just me though, perhaps some people are genuinely happier living a lie. In the society we live in, I understand. Maybe I'm just too vain not to like who I am,' he said self-mockingly.

We found the others by the coconut shy, trying to knock them down and win a prize.

'Would- er – would you let me try and win you a prize, Daisy?' I heard Cillian ask nervously. I had never before seen him nervous. She turned pink and nodded.

Well, who would have suspected a pairing like that? I looked at Mr Barrow and raised my eyebrows in surprise and he nodded as if to say _I know_. Poor old Alfred really would be the only one left on the shelf at this rate!

'Will you try and win me a prize, Jimmy?' Ivy simpered, coming over and manoeuvring herself skilfully between Mr Barrow and me, causing me an unreasonable shiver of resentment.

'Of course,' I said quickly, paying for a handful of wooden balls. 'What would you like me to get for you?'

'The little doll on the right,' she said, pointing at a ragamuffin with button eyes and a ginger mop of woollen hair.

'Right,' I said. With everyone watching, I could hardly afford to miss. The jokes would be ringing in my ears, following me all the way home. I swallowed deeply and chucked the first ball, which missed by about a mile. The second and third were close, but the fourth one knocked the coconut clean off its stand, thank God!

'What prize would you like, sir?' the owner asked genially.

'The doll, please, for my best girl,' I said happily, swinging my arm around Ivy. I liked it so much: being the couple that everyone admired and everyone was rooting for. It was safe and familiar and, well, _approved_ for a lack of a better word.

We didn't stay much longer after that: we'd all managed to root out all the gifts we needed, we'd seen the lights and the fireworks and we'd had a look at what the fair had to offer. We made a quick stop at the cake stall so that one of the housemaids could pick up some sultanas and mince pies, then we headed back to the bus stop so that we wouldn't be so late that Mr Carson would feed us to the dogs.

Just before we arrived back at the bus stop, Mr Barrow pulled me back slightly.

'I have something for you and I really hope you'll take it.'

I can't help but sigh in exasperation. 'You said you wouldn't try it on again.'

He snorted. 'No, not that, I don't mean I want you to take _that_ – although, if you're offering-'

'What were you on about, then?' I cut in, embarrassed by my own dirty mind.

He looked shy now, and he seemed to make sure nobody else was looking, which wasn't like him. He pressed something small and delicate into my hand. In the gloom, it was hard to make out, so I had to draw it up to my eyes to see properly what it was.

'I've never been to the fair with a sweetheart and it's not likely I ever will, so I'm hoping you'll have this. I've always wanted to win something at the fair for my love – I hope you'll not deny me that?'

It was a little wooden animal, barely an inch tall, with thin, spindly legs, a tail and an elegant, curved neck. A horse? No, not quite.

'A unicorn?' I asked.

'I like unicorns,' he said lightly. 'They're magical creatures.'

We both laugh, but I take the little thing and put it in my pocket.

I could see the lights of the oncoming bus. 'We better get back to the others?' I said. 'Come on.'

As we climbed onto the bus, Alfred gave me a sour look which I couldn't decipher. Yes, I know he was annoyed at being snubbed for Cillian, but why was he glaring at me like that? I turn my back to him uneasily and assume that he'll let the cat out of the bag once we're back at home.

**Bonus points for hardcore Thomas fans who got the unicorn reference **


	7. A Midnight Stroll

Chapter Seven: A Midnight Stroll

Alfred clumped rather noisily into the bedroom, sat down heavily and took off both his shoes with more anger than the situation strictly called for. He let each one drop and bang on the floor.

'Okay, I give up, what's the tantrum about?' I asked testily.

'People talk, you know!' he shot back angrily. 'If they haven't started already, they will!' There was a biting venom which was rarely present in his usual slow, bovine tranquillity.

'Explain yourself or else shut the bloody hell up,' I said lazily, undressing. The fair had left me in an unusually good mood. I gently touched the little unicorn in my pocket but decided to keep it there for now in case Alfred's big, sneaky eyes spied it.

'You and Mr Barrow!' Alfred hissed, freezing my heart. What did he know, think he knew or suspect? Worse, had he overheard anything compromising?

'What are nattering on about?' I asked coolly.

'The two of you having cosy little chats together when there ain't nobody else around? You think that's normal? You know what he's like. If some slimy git tried to stick his dirty tongue down my throat – well – for a start, he'd be behind bars by now! God,' he stood up and started pacing and I was half-worried the supressed craziness from his aunt's side of the family was coming to a head. 'I wouldn't be in the same _room_ as him, let alone talk to him! The way you two were laughing and flirting at each other at the fair, how's that going to look to people?' He sneered nastily. 'I'm starting to wonder if Aunt Sarah wasn't right about you.'

I managed to wrangle my panic into a calm while he had his rant. I couldn't believe how foolish I'd been tonight. The excitement of the fair had caused me to act irrationally, to succumb to my baser desires, and there would be consequences.

'Right about what?' I asked, trying to sound as though I couldn't give a damn and was already bored of his ramblings.

'That you're just as foul and twisted as he is,' he said, voice trembling with loathing. 'Real men don't do things like that, only freaks who are sick in the head.'

On the outside, I was as cool as a frozen lake.

'God, you do love your dramatics, don't you? I have one polite conversation for the sake of keeping a good working environment and you get your knickers in a twist.'

'I know what I saw!' he said coldly.

'Oh, really? If you're so good at reading people, why don't you have Daisy on your arm? That's right, because you're as blind as a bat when it comes to other people's intentions! So why don't you shut your fat gob and go to bed before you embarrass yourself anymore.'

I thought he might have hit me. A shiver or revulsion rippled through his features and I could tell he wanted to swing for me, hard. But he didn't, he just went to bed. Maybe I had convinced him.

It didn't matter.

How could I have let it come to this? Was Alfred right that people were talking? He was right about the fact that it didn't take much to set the rumour mill off. If I was to avoid that, I'd need to change immediately.

Most people were still a bit high on the excitement of the day before. In the kitchen, Daisy was humming to herself as she sliced vegetables.

'You look pleased with yourself,' I commented.

She flushed. 'You'd never have thought it! On the way back, on the bus, Cillian asked if I wanted to walk out with him!' She had a shy little smile on, as though wondering whether she was allowed to be happy.

'Good on you!' I said. God, all these happy couples – and then I remember that I'm meant to be one of them. Ivy and I are another one of those blessed couples.

At that moment, Mr Barrow entered the kitchen and leant against the door frame. I looked away, but I knew the smug expression that would be there, like the cat that got the cream. He hadn't got anything, though.

'Hey, Jimmy, fancy a smoke?'

'I'm busy,' I said in my most glacial tone. I was making a point. When I finally glanced into his face and so the hurt confusion there, I saw that the point had been made.

I strode past him briskly. Unfortunately, he followed, catching up with me on the stairs and grabbing my upper arm.

'What's wrong? Have I done something?' he demanded.

'No,' I said curtly. 'I just realised that maybe it's better if we keep our distance for a while in case people get the wrong impression.'

He laughed – it was low, bitter and sarcastic. 'You know what? You can't keep playing hot and cold like this. It's not fair.'

'I'm not playing,' I muttered. 'Now leave me go, I've got work to do!'

He released me and I turned and marched up the stairs as quickly as I could.

I was skiving again, so I went down to see Ivy in the kitchen and have a chat.

'You know, it's a full moon tonight,' I said to her, lowering my voice so Mrs Patmore wouldn't hear.

'And?'

'And I think it'll be a beautiful night for a winter's walk. When it's been snowing, the moon lights up the snow so it's as bright as day.'

Ivy tutted reproachfully. 'What would my mum say if I went out for a walk at night with a man?'

'If she doesn't know, she won't say anything,' I said coyly. I glance quickly over in Mrs Patmore's direction to see she's still occupied. 'It'll be dead romantic.'

'Oh,' she said softly, obviously tempted. 'Well, go on then. But we better not be caught. If Mrs Patmore finds me sneaking out, I'll be dead.'

'Don't you worry about a thing!'

It's cold, even colder than I thought it would be, but at least the woods look magical. We're wrapped up in twelve layers and can barely feel each other's hands through two pairs of gloves each. Still, Ivy seemed impressed, and we built a little snowman.

What I was really hoping for was a chance to get Ivy alone inside when nobody else was around and we weren't about to be disturbed, so when we got back I suggested that have a hot chocolate before going to bed.

'I'm going to be shattered tomorrow,' she said, but didn't seem to mind really, accepting the cup from me. Her little face was lit up with joy and I tried to dispel my uneasiness. _This isn't right_. Shut up, brain!

'God, you're so pretty,' I murmured, running my fingers through her hair before kissing her.

I pulled away from her and she opened her eyes. They were practically shining with adoration, but I couldn't help but wonder what she adored: me or some sort of idea, the concept of finding Prince Charming.

'You've not kissed me in ages,' she breathed.

'I must have been crazy,' I said, pulling her closer to me forcefully and kissing her very deeply. 'You know I love you, don't you?'

She gasped and her eyes widened. 'I didn't but I'm glad. I love you, too!' she said, nearly frantically, clutching at my face, kissing me back fiercely.

'Show me that you love me,' I whispered, looking into her eyes. Uncertainty flickered there – she knew what I was asking of her and knew the risk which it entailed.

'Show me,' I repeated. She bit her lip but nodded silently.

In the cold darkness of the abandoned servants lounge, against the judgement of my conscience, I had very awkward intimate relations with Ivy. I pulled myself on top of her on the wooden table and hitched up the layers of her skirt. She looked frightened and love-struck.

'I'm not going to hurt you,' I told her. I knew it would probably be a lie. I remembered when I was younger, hearing the older lads bragging about all the maidenheads they'd taken and how they'd known by the fact the girls had winced and bled.

I pulled Ivy's knickers down and pushed inside her. Sure enough, she flinched in pain, so I planted sloppy kisses on her neck, convincing myself that this was romantic in some way.

'I love you and I want to be with you,' I muttered in her ear. What else could I tell her? I could hardly say _I'm trying to prove that I'm a man, I'm trying to cure myself._

I carried on rutting inside her a bit in nervous, breathy silence. I felt the strange urge to make some sort of joke to break the embarrassment.


	8. After Dark

Chapter Eight: After Dark

I sat outside, smoking and feeling guilty. It had been a few days since my little 'romantic encounter' with Ivy, as I'd taken to calling it in my head. I felt bad that I didn't have anything better to offer her: no candles or silk sheets, hell, not even a _bed_.

I didn't feel guilty that it had actually happened though. In spite of its awkwardness, I still saw Ivy as my girl and I figured that we would be together and one day marry. It would be inconvenient if the romantic encounter brought the marriage (which was at that point a hazy ideology) forward, but it wouldn't be the end of the world and it wouldn't have been the first time that that sort of the had happened. Mr Carson and Mrs Hughes would be, well, they'd be pissed. However, as long as we were married when any pregnancy was discovered, nobody would quibble too much over dates if the baby was born six or seven months after the wedding.

I cared about Ivy, yet that didn't appease me. I stared rather absently at nothing and continued smoking, not even sure what I was feeling. Everything was back on track, I was efficiently giving Mr Barrow a wide berth and Alfred hadn't made any more snide comments, but something _wasn't right_.

'James!' Mr Carson thundered, storming into the yard. 'I've called you twice. Never make me come and fetch you out here again!' He glanced around quickly, almost suspiciously, as though so much fresh air was dangerous, before beckoning for me to follow him back inside.

'I'm terribly sorry, Mr Carson.' I said hurriedly. 'My head's in the shed today!' I said with a half-smile, trying to make a joke out of it.

'Then kindly remove your head from the shed and go upstairs,' Mr Carson told me, his eyebrows migrating as far up his head as I had ever seen them go. That couldn't be a good sign. 'The family are expecting Mr Gregson any minute.' Ah, so that's what had put a bee in Mr Carson's bonnet, him sharing the Crawleys' disapproval of Lady Edith's _married newspaper man_.

'Mrs Patmore, Mr Gregson is staying for dinner as well,' I told the cook.

She huffed to herself. 'Well, that's thrown a spanner in the works. I don't know _why_ they leave everything until such short notice!'

'I'm sure you'll be able to work your magic,' I told her sweetly.

She gave me the evil eye. 'You keep your charm for the young ladies and leave me be.' She waved a wooden spoon warningly in my direction and I made myself scarce.

I sat down in the servant's hall to get a small stain out of my livery while I had the time. Mr Carson would hit the roof if I presented myself at dinner with the little black mark on my sleeve. No one else in the world would notice, but Carson's hawk eyes were well-trained to home in on the smallest of discrepancies.

Mr Barrow came in the room and I felt my usual clash of emotion.

'You're fixing that mark, then, I was wondering when you were going to get around to doing it,' he said, but his tone was light and pleasant rather than reproachful.

'You've been taking lessons from Mr Carson,' I said. 'No one else would have seen it.'

'Well, that is my job now,' he said with a shrug, sitting down next to me. 'I'm surprised you're talking to me again.'

'Well, there's no one else around,' I said, only realising how harsh those words sounded after they'd left my mouth. I immediately gave him a look of regretful apology but he only looked bitterly amused.

'Well, I suppose that's rather a safe attitude to have. If I'd had that frame of mind at your age I might still be on speaking terms with my family. Honestly,' he said, looking sombre. 'I know I was too forward with you at the fair, so I suppose it's only natural that that's put you on edge. I want to promise that it won't happen again, but you know what I'm like,' he half-laughed, a slightly self-mocking sound. 'I'm emotional and I find it really hard not to wear that on my sleeve.'

That was true and probably the thing which had struck me most about Thomas' character; he was tactile and demonstrative in a society where it was not fashionable to be so.

'It wasn't how you were,' I said in a low voice. 'It was how Alfred reacted to it. It frightened me.'

'Again,' he said thoughtfully. 'That's probably a safe attitude to have.'

We sat for a bit in silence, me using a mixture of potions and lotions to get that bloody stubborn stain out and Mr Barrow shining an old gravy boat which was never even used any more.

'That doesn't even need polishing, does it?' I asked casually.

'No, but it'll impress Mr Carson when he sees me doing it,' he said with a wicked grin.

I laughed. I never laughed like that with Ivy. I closed my eyes quickly as though I could banish that thought by doing so. Ivy and I were right for each other, I was sure of it.

'What's wrong?' Mr Barrow asked.

'Nothing,' I said quickly. I glance over at the genuine concern on his face and it convinced me to be at least a little bit honest with him. It wasn't a conversation I wanted to have with him, but it wasn't a conversation I could have with anyone else.

'Can I ask you a personal question?' I asked quietly.

'Always,' he said.

'Have you ever, well, have you, you know…' I trailed off awkwardly, not sure how to phrase it.

'Been with a woman?' he suggested.

'How did you know?' I said, feeling myself going red rather inconveniently.

'From your awkward embarrassment and the way Ivy's been looking at you for the past couple of days, what else could it be?'

'I see,' I said. Had anyone else realised? I didn't think it likely.

'To answer your question, yes, I have, actually,' he said conversationally, then quite maddeningly left it at that.

'What was it like?' I demanded.

He looked amused at my eagerness, but took his own sweet time in relaying all the interesting facts to me. 'Oh, well, you know. It was when I worked in Haxby before coming to Downton. I was only second footman, but there was a young housemaid who was madly in love with me.'

'So?'

'So, I was quite flattered by it. She was incredibly pretty and every other man in the house would have crawled on his belly over hot coal for a chaste kiss on the cheek off her, yet she only had eyes for me. During the servants' ball, everyone had a few too many glasses of scotch and I ended up taking her to bed.'

'So what was it like?' I repeated.

'It was fine,' he said with a shrug. 'What did you expect me to say? It wasn't awful. It was alright. If I'd wanted to be in denial about who I was, I can imagine how I'd been contented with it. Of course, there was one problem with that, in my case?'

'What?'

'Well, at that point, _I_ already knew what I would be missing out on. Once you know…' he finished aimlessly.

Of course, it would have been at that moment, when my mouth was hanging open foolishly, that Mr Carson walked past, saw Mr Barrow working away on the gravy boat and gave him a rare appreciative smile.

'That needed to be seen to, Mr Barrow, thank you for that,' he said. It ruined the atmosphere somewhat and, my own stain having thankfully disappeared, I had no real reason to keep sitting there.

'I've got to get ready, the guests will be here soon,' I explained as I stood up to go.

'So they will,' Mr Barrow agreed.

I thought about my conversation with Mr Barrow while I served dinner. _It was alright_ he had said. That seemed a fairly accurate description of what had ensued between Ivy and me. _I already knew what I would be missing out on_. That lodged itself right in my brain and sang to me. What would I be missing out on? Would it harm to know?

Of course it would. By Mr Barrow's own admission, if he'd never known a man's touch, he might have been perfectly satisfied with a woman, and so could I be. And, my word, I wanted to be. I wanted to be happy with Ivy or with some version of Ivy.

Maybe he was wrong? Or maybe he was right in his instance, but that didn't apply to me. Perhaps, in my case, it would help if I could just get it out of my system.

I passed the rest of the evening in a trance, nearly spilling drinks twice, much to Carson's consternation. He finally sent Alfred and me to bed with cold disappointment.

'Don't know why he was so angry at me – you were the one who was all thumbs tonight!' Alfred grumbled as he undressed. I could barely hear him.

Alfred was a very easy sleeper, always dropping into a coma within seconds of hitting the pillow. I had barely got myself comfortable when he started up his usual rattling snore.

_I already knew what I would be missing out on._ The sentence, even Thomas' very voice, caused an unquenchable, maddening desire in me. I couldn't forget it and I couldn't go to sleep.

'Bloody hell!' I groaned softly to myself, pulling myself up into sitting position.

Thomas was still awake, reading, and he didn't say anything when I walked into his room and sat down on his bed.

'Let me just finish this chapter,' he said. After a minute, he put the book aside.

'How may I help you?' he said calmly, as though nothing at all was out of the ordinary.

I leant in and kissed him, lingering as I savoured his lips.

'Our first mutually consensual kiss,' he murmured.

I wasn't really sure what to do or say. I finally settled on: 'I want you to show me what I've been missing out on.'


	9. Midnight Encounter

Chapter Nine: Midnight Encounter

**WARNING! This is like, totally M**

'I want you to show me what I've been missing out on,' I repeated firmly, looking straight at him. It felt easier and more natural than I expected to give in like that; almost unconsciously, I relaxed, dropping my shoulders and smiling without even thinking about it.

Nor did I think I could have said anything more titillating to him. With a primal moan of anticipation, he cupped my face, kissing me again. It was wonderful to be so desired, so needed, as though I were the most coveted thing on earth. Thomas raked my hair aside, kissed my temples, creating a path down to my ears then neck.

I whimpered. 'That feels better than when I imagined it,' I whispered; I could feel the effect it had on his body.

'You've thought about me like that before?' he demanded, looking stricken.

'You know I have,' I said, but I was the slightest bit embarrassed all the same. I hadn't really intended to let it slip out like that. I was blushing again.

He grinned. 'I'd tell you not to be embarrassed, but I find you so adorable when you blush, so be embarrassed all you like. Think of serving at dinner in your underwear in front of the dowager countess if it'll bring colour into your cheeks.'

I rolled my eyes at him. 'Is there a reason that you've stopped kissing me?'

He snickered, lying down. 'Oh, I can tell you're going to be excellent already.' He pulled me down next to him so that we were lying side by side.

This time, his kiss tore the breath out of me: it was fierce, desperate, powerful and passionate. Our hips met tantalisingly and, _oh God_, I could feel him, I could feel the pressure of his cock digging in to me and I was too overwhelmed to be embarrassed that he could feel me, too. The thin cotton of our pyjama bottoms was a negligible barrier.

'Can I take your t-shirt off?' he asked tentatively, with almost absurd politeness; I nodded fervently. His hands deftly tugged the inconvenient item of clothing over my head. I adored how his hands traced my skin, leaving fingertips all over my chest as though I was an undiscovered land, kissing ever hair and freckle.

His hand moved further south. He tenderly kissed my stomach and glanced up at me for conformation before pulling down my trousers.

'My darling, you're amazing,' he murmured softly.

'I want to see you, too!' I urged, pulling his clothes from him.

'Who am I to deny you?' he teased, allowing me to frantically unpeel him like a delicious Satsuma.

I rested my hand on his chest, feeling the muscle and the coarse, dark hair which smattered his ivory skin.

'I like your chest,' I said.

He laughed. 'Thanks. You sound surprised?'

'I'd never given much thought about what I would like before now. I do like your chest though. It's a nice chest.' I could hear that I sounded like an idiot, but I hoped he would find it endearing.

I pulled off his trousers, a little less gracefully than he had removed mine, but they came off all the same, leaving a very sexy, naked man staring at me with amusement as my mouth fell open.

'The rest of you is nice, too,' I offered hopefully.

He giggled. 'Come here, you! You absolutely need to work on your dirty talk, but that can wait for another time.'

He drew me close to him and we lay entwined, brushing up against each other heatedly, a slick of sweat coating us as we kissed and caressed.

'What happens now?' I asked in beautiful agony.

'Whatever you want to happen,' he replied. A flash of hazy ideas fluttered through my mind, each imprecise and uncertain. I wasn't sure what I wanted. I wanted, tonight at least, to trust his guidance, to surrender myself to his wisdom as he showed me how to unlock my body.

'What do you usually do?' I asked. 'Let's do that!' I said.

He smiled, stroked my face. 'Can I show you my favourite thing?'

'Favourite sound good,' I said eagerly.

He twisted so that he was sitting, pushing me so that I lay on my back then climbing on top of me.

'Lie back,' he said. 'But don't think of England, think of me.'

He kissed downwards, stopping briefly to run his tongue over my nipples and causing me to groan, down and down until he hovered over my crotch, and I realised what was going to happen. I wouldn't have thought it possible, but the sight of his red lips hanging inches above me caused me to get even harder.

Thomas smirked. 'I take it you have no objections?'

'No teasing,' I groaned. 'Please no more teasing, I couldn't take it!'

My beautiful, dark-haired angel teased me no further. His unbelievably hot and wet mouth sank over my cock.

'Jesus, Mary and Joseph!' I groaned, putting my hands in Thomas' hair and clenching. His tongue ran along me, teasing and prodding until I could barely see from the heat building inside me, my hips pushing upwards insistently, begging him to increase his pace and put me out of my misery.

He did, finishing me, leaving me dazed and shivering.

'That was something else,' I murmured, pulling him up towards me, wrapping my hands around his neck before kissing him. He tasted like me.

'Let me return the favour,' I purred, biting his lower lip gently, enjoying the fact that the evidence of what he'd done lingered in his lips.

'I'm not going to argue.'

As he'd done, I grasped him firmly before kissing gently, teasing his straining member. As far as possible, I tried to mimic what Thomas had done to me, and it seemed to work. He let out a sharp cry, his head straining back against the pillow.

'Oh, God, I'm so glad you're a fast learner,' he sighed.

It didn't take very long and I felt the throbbing release as he lost himself, spilled himself into me. It was strange to see such helpless abandonment in him, strange and wonderfully secret.

He pulled me into bed with him.

'You shouldn't stay long,' he warned. 'If you fall asleep we'll be in trouble when the hall boy comes around to wake us. But stay for a little while.'

He scooped me up, cradling me, his chin hooked onto my shoulder. A world of unsaid 'thank you's seemed to seep out of the both us, so eternally grateful to be together. He kissed my shoulder blade softly, and I thought that it was the sound of Pandora's box snapping open, never to be closed.


	10. Finding a Path through the Dark

Chapter Ten: Finding a Path through the Dark

'Jimmy? Are you okay?' Ivy asked tentatively, touching my arm. I flinched automatically, having been so far removed from the situation, so lost in thought.

'What?' I said, startled.

'Are you okay?' Ivy repeated anxiously, pressing a cool hand on my forehead as though searching for a fever.

'Yes,' I said heartily, trying to shake myself out of it. It would do no good at all for anyone to think I'm sick, even though I clearly was. Something in me wasn't right.

In many ways, the previous night had made things worse for me. Before, I could still tell myself that I was going through a funny phase, that I had strange little daydreams that didn't mean anything. I could no longer do that. The heart-breaking truth was that I could no longer be in denial about who I was, and I had to live with that. I wasn't sure if I could.

I smiled warmly at Ivy, or at least I hoped that it translated as a warm smile, and I kissed her sweetly on the cheek; she looked slightly less troubled. In the background, Alfred's sour expression intensified.

'I'm surprised Carson hasn't given you two a warning, what with the way you paw each other like lovebirds from dawn 'til dusk,' he said grouchily as soon as Ivy had gone back to work. 'It isn't decent and I'm surprised nothing has been said!'

'Do you just enjoy complaining about everything?' I asked with incredulity.

'I heard Ivy tell Daisy that you were as good as a married couple now,' Alfred continued obnoxiously. 'What did she mean by it?'

I heaved a sigh and gave him a look of long-suffering annoyance. 'It means she loves me and she knows I love her. It means that one day we'll be married. That's what people do, isn't it? You find someone and you get married. I know that it's proving harder for you than for most, but that's no reason to bite my head off, is it?'

I'd hoped to distract Alfred by insulting him, but it didn't work.

'I don't think that's what she meant. I think she meant you'd been up to no good,' he said, eyes twinkling with malice that highlighted his resemblance to O'Brien.

I glared at him with pitying disdain and walked away. Quite frankly, I didn't have the energy to deal with him at that moment.

I was stopped in the hallway by Mr Carson. He wore a pained expression.

'James, you will act as valet to Mr Gregson this evening. He'll be arriving shortly, so make sure that you are upstairs ready to help with the luggage. I'm sure Alfred is willing to give you a hand,' he said, beaming at the golden boy. Alfred's chest puffed out proudly.

'Of course, Mr Carson.'

Mr Gregson arrived on the dot, as any good middle-class businessman would. It was immediately obvious that he was not an aristocrat and that he was not terribly familiar with the world that the Crawley family occupied. For a start, he greeted me when I came to collect his bag.

'Good afternoon,' he said politely. I couldn't see Mr Carson's face, but I would have bet a thousand pounds that it conveyed a harrowing disapproval.

Lady Edith came hurrying down the stairs as we entered the house.

'It's so good to see you again, Michael,' she said warmly, her face lit up with pleasure. First name terms! In posh land, that's practically an engagement. Carson's disapproval was palpable as he swished off to fetch tea for the guest.

'They're getting along alright, aren't they?' Alfred said quietly as we lugged the bags upstairs. 'Don't know why Carson is so het up about it, he seems like a nice bloke. Better than that old one-armed codger at any rate!'

'I can't see any reason to hate him,' I agree, 'apart from the fact that he has unusually heavy luggage. I think this one has bricks and rocks in it.'

'Mr Gregson, for how long should we expect the pleasure of your company?' his lordship asked airily at dinner, with a subtext that said 'bugger off.' But then, Lady Mary had a nasty break-up from a London newspaper tycoon, so maybe that's what has put his lordship off.

'Oh, I wouldn't dream of troubling you for more than a weekend,' Mt Gregson replied with equal airiness. 'Just Saturday and Sunday, I think.'

'Yes, we are aware of what a weekend is,' the dowager countess said with understated sarcasm. Thomas, who was overseeing the dinner in lieu of Carson, twitched briefly; he seemed to be repressing a smirk.

'Of course,' Mr Gregson smiled.

'What were you laughing at earlier?' I asked Thomas between courses.

'Private joke,' he said. 'Now get back out with the lobster, I'm sure Carson had hidden spies to make sure everything's going to plan.'

'Lady Edith informs me that Mrs Levinson will be joining you in the New Year,' Mr Gregson said to her ladyship across the table. 'I'm sure you'll be glad to see her.'

'I will be,' her ladyship agreed. 'We don't get to see her as often as we would like,' – at this point, his lordship made an indistinct noise at the back of his throat – 'but she absolutely insisted on coming to see the new baby, and to spend more time with Sybbie while she's little.'

'How charming! You'll be quite a full house. I'm sure Lady Edith will be sad to miss out on such a lot of excitement!'

Whether he intended to drop a bombshell or whether it was a genuine mistake was not clear from his expression. Either way, quite a bombshell it was; his lordship put down his cutlery firmly, and it had the same effect as slamming a door. Nobody can convey indignation quite like Lord Grantham.

'Why, precisely, will Lady Edith be missing out on the excitement?' he said loudly.

Mr Gregson looked alarmed, his mouth hanging open as though at a loss for words.

'I'm frightfully sorry, but I thought you knew,' he apologised.

All eyes flicked from him to Lady Edith, who, to her credit, refrained from shrinking into her seat and said with admiral poise.

'Yes, it's all arranged. Aunt Rosamund has just written back to me today to say that she doesn't mind me staying with her for a few months. I'm back and forth to London so often these days that it seemed sensible to live there for a bit.'

His lordship and the dowager's faces were mirror images of horror.

'What a jolly good idea!' Lady Mary said brightly. 'You'll save so much time and money.'

His lordship looked scandalised at this betrayal.

'I hope you know what you're doing,' he muttered, returning angrily to his dinner.

'I do,' Lady Edith answered firmly.

'You'll never guess what Lady Edith's gone and done?' I said the second I sat down in the servant's hall.

'Is she eloping with Mr Gregson?' one of the sillier housemaids asked.

'She can't elope with him, he's already married. The church tends to frown on that sort of thing,' Thomas said sarcastically.

'The church frowns on a lot of things,' Alfred muttered.

We all ignored him.

'She arranged to live in London with Lady Rosamund in the New Year.'

'That sounds so exciting,' Ivy said dreamily. 'Will you take me to London one day, Jimmy?'

'Of course,' I said. 'When I've made my riches, we'll go around in a motorcar and stay in the Ritz!' I teased. Thomas shot me a distinctively hurt look which made me wince.

'Why don't you play us a tune, Jimmy?' Anna suggested, nodding her head to the piano. 'We haven't had a song for a while.'

I sat down at the piano and started up with 'It's a long, long way to Tipperary', which everyone recognised immediately.

'Okay, here's one you won't know!' I said, switching to an old song which I heard when I was little but hardly anyone else seemed to know it. It was an old-fashioned, folksy tune.

'It's lovely,' Ivy murmured. 'I've never heard that one before.'

'It's one of my favourites,' I said. This old song had been playing at the back of my head for the past few weeks and I'd been itching for the opportunity to let it out.

'I think it's time for bed,' Carson announced, probably worried that the fun would get 'out of hand'. Everyone got up, disgruntled.

Something made me go back later, once everyone had disappeared upstairs. I wanted to finish the song. I played with my eyes closed, but after a minute I began to sense the presence of someone else in the room.

'You play so wonderfully,' Thomas said. 'I feel there's nothing to worry about in the world when you play. What's the song called?'

'I'm not sure of the title. It's a folk song my grandmother used to sing to me when I was little, a lullaby. I think it's about a mother singing to her grown-up son.'

I continue playing, my fingers feeling the old notes which rang so familiar, as familiar as my own name.

'I can't remember all the words, only some of them…

_So much time has passed, my love, you're no longer innocent_

_I don't know when the sweet spring died or where the years went_

_You're no more my babe in arms, gurgling with joy,_

_But you'll always be my dark-haired beauty, my darling blue-eyed boy_

That's all I can remember. It's been on my mind a lot recently. Don't know why,' I said lightly.

'So this thing with Ivy?' he asked, staring at me with his lovely blue eyes.

'I don't know,' I whispered. 'I'm sorry, but I don't know.'

He sat down next to me on the bench and I leant my head on his shoulder. I still didn't have any answers and Thomas couldn't help me find them. It was something I could only do on my own.


	11. Stab in the Dark

Chapter 11: Stab in the Dark

The New Year saw a flood of guests pouring into Downton. Much to her parents' mortification, Lady Edith insisted that Mr Gregson come. The last thing they wanted was for the whole world to know that their daughter was flirting shamelessly with a married man.

'Must you provoke them so?' Lady Mary asked her sister, her voice full of exasperation. I was serving them tea in the drawing room and, as usual, they spoke quite candidly, as though they were alone.

'The world is changing,' Lady Edith said. 'You believed that once. For goodness sake, it's the twenties!'

Lady Mary put down her teacup, rather alarmed. 'I think London has gone to your head. Next thing we know, you'll be joining Rose in one of those God-awful clubs.'

It was true that Lady Edith had changed. It was hard to believe that somebody who was so lonely and desperate a year and a half ago was brimming with such vitality; the life of a modern, professional woman suited her.

'Mama and Papa are going to have to get used to him, which is why I'm introducing them to the idea slowly. I don't want to upset them, but I need to live my life.'

'What idea?' Lady Mary asked sharply. 'What are you talking about? James, could you bring some more biscuits,' she added without missing a beat.

Not wanting to miss any of the conversation, I waited and listened outside the door for a minute, straining to hear.

'When I go to London,' Lady Edith confessed. 'I won't be living with Aunt Rosamund. I'll live with Michael.'

There was a taut silence as Lady Mary struggled with this fascinating piece of information.

'Edith!' she hissed. 'A married man. You're planning to live with a married man. Can you imagine the gravity of scandal this will cause?'

An impatient sigh escaped Lady Edith. 'Mary, his wife has been institutionalised for years. That isn't a marriage. And I doubt the scandal will be any bigger than your little affair with Pamuk or Sybil eloping with a chauffeur.

Mr Carson rounded the corner at that moment and wasn't best pleased to see me with my ear pressed against the door.

'James!' he thundered. 'What _are_ you doing?'

I scampered away to fetch the biscuits, and by the time I returned the subject had been unfortunately changed to something less interesting.

Thomas was outside smoking, so I joined him, borrowing a cigarette.

'You never used to smoke,' he commented. 'What made you start?'

I shrugged. 'Well, you always look so terribly smart and sophisticated with a cigarette that I thought I'd give it a whirl,' I said innocently.

He grinned, lighting my cigarette for me. 'You're teasing me. Stop it, it isn't nice.'

I was teasing him, but it was true as well.

'You'll never guess what I overheard today.'

'Go on.'

'Lady Edith is going to live with that Mr Gregson,' I told him in a low whisper.

Thomas let out a low whistle. 'Bloody hell, she never is! Who would have thought that she would make Lady Sybil seem conservative in comparison?'

After a few minutes, Mr Carson beckoned me back inside to help with Lady Roasmund's luggage, all fifty bags of lead. It was when I was heaving the bags upstairs that the accident happened, as was bound to happen in a house like that where everyone was rushing around like a headless chicken half the time and not being careful.

Halfway up, I stopped for a breather and Mr Moseley ploughed straight into me with the next bag, lost his balance and toppled backwards. I did feel slightly guilty when Mr Clarkson announced his arm was broken, but really, the stupid clot should have been watching where he was going.

Mr Carson summoned me gruffly to his office. I thought I was in for a bollocking for causing the accident, but I was in for a treat instead.

'As Mr Moseley is currently incapacitated, Mr Matthew will require a suitable replacement. You shall act as his valet for the time being.'

I was happy for the opportunity to progress, and even happier that the opportunity came at the expense of Alfred, even if I secretly thought that Mr Matthew would have quite happily forgone a valet. I couldn't wait to gloat over dinner, imagining the bitter glares which O'Brien was going to throw my way.

'You'll be accompanying the family to London next week, then,' Thomas told me later.

'I hadn't thought of that,' I said. 'What's that usually like?'

'Quite good, actually. There's a lot of fussing about in the evening, but you'll get quite a bit of free time during the day.'

I was in his room and we were nakedly entangled, huddled under the blankets as the sweat on us cooled, him playing absently with my hair. I was exhausted; I had just… I wasn't sure what word to use. 'Making love' seemed too tranquil, 'had sex' seemed too casual and 'fucked' seemed too angry. Anyway, we'd done it for the first time. Thomas had guided me, shown me what do in a way that made me ache in anticipation; when I eventually slid slowly inside him it felt so deliciously, breath-takingly good that I needed to bite into his shoulder to stop myself for crying out loudly.

'What does it feel like? Having a cock shoved up your bum?' I asked curiously.

He snickered. 'Your voice is so innocent but your words are filth.' His smirk widened. 'I'll show you next time if you want.'

'Will it hurt me?'

'I'll not hurt you,' he promised. 'Trust me, I know what I'm doing.'

He fell silent for a bit. I knew what he was thinking about. He hadn't brought up the subject of Ivy in the past couple of weeks, but I knew that it bothered him that we were still together, even if nothing more 'inappropriate' had happened between us. I was sure that Alfred had said something to Mr Carson, because we both seemed to be under close scrutiny recently, and Mrs Patmore always marched Ivy to bed early these days.

'What are you waiting for?' Thomas eventually asked, his question hanging softly in the darkness. 'You know who you are and that isn't going to change.'

'I know,' I snapped, without meaning to. I didn't want to be sharp with him, but he kept touching something raw inside me, something which irritated easily, like broken skin. Everything was so complicated inside my head and I dreaded the Herculean task of unpicking all the knots.

'Why do you think it's so simple?' I asked him, looking searchingly into his eyes for the source of his optimism.

'For me, it is simple. I want to be with someone I love.'

I laughed cynically. 'You sound like a teenage girl.'

'Don't you want to be happy?' he asked me, touching my face tenderly. 'I bet your night with Ivy didn't make you as happy as I can make you.'

I sat up, stared at the empty darkness in front of me.

'There's more to happiness than sex,' I said quietly.

'Is that all this is?' he asked. His voice was neutral, but that didn't fool me. However, I was so dizzy with what I was feeling that I didn't care if I hurt him.

'How can it be any more?' I laughed harshly. 'We can't get married, or even live together. We can't have children or build a life together, or do anything. So you tell me: what could we have which is more than sex? What could you offer me which would make me want to give up a healthy, _wholesome_ marriage?'

He flinched. He didn't say anything for what seemed like an age.

'I'm going to sleep; you better not be here when I wake up.'

I glanced over; there was enough moonlight for me to be able to see his face fairly clearly. He looked physically ill and I felt desperately regretful for what I'd said. He turned onto his side, pulling the covers up over his head.

I went to hug him.

'Don't you dare touch me after saying that,' he said quietly.

Having no words, I got up and dressed silently, but instead of heading straight to my room, I went to the bathroom.

I managed to shut the door behind me before bursting into sobs that wracked my whole body.

I shouldn't be crying. After all, I'd solved the problem and just made things a whole lot easier for myself.


	12. A Shadowy Helping Hand

Chapter twelve: A Shadowy Helping Hand

I visited Thomas' room every night that week but he wouldn't see me. It didn't help that I couldn't articulate how I felt or conduct a proper apology; all I could do was look sad and hope it would be enough.

'I'm so, so sorry. I shouldn't have said it. I miss you,' I whispered unhappily.

'Not good enough,' he said flatly. He wouldn't look me in the eyes.

I didn't manage to heal the rift between us before heading to London.

'I must say, you're proving much more competent than Alfred,' Mr Matthew said pleasantly as I finished doing his cufflinks ready for the first night in the city.

'Thank you, Sir,' I replied, making a mental note to rub it in Alfred's face the moment I got back.

'I believe that will be all, James,' Mr Matthew said. I nodded and made my way quickly downstairs to be ready to serve at dinner. Although I enjoyed the prestige of acting as a valet, I wasn't a fan of the extra work it involved.

'Come on, Jimmy, step up the pace,' Mrs Grey, the cook which the Crawleys used in London, said testily as I entered the kitchen, and a kitchen maid shoved a plate of avocado slices into my hands.

'Alright, keep your hair on!' I muttered under my breath.

Upstairs, the spirits were sprightly thanks to a myriad of fashionable and witty guests.

'Well, Lady Susannah, I hope that you are enjoying your debut in society,' the Duke of Crowborough said charmingly. 'It is always an exciting time when all the new ladies come out and lift our spirits and you shone so brightly amongst them.'

From the other end of the table, the Duchess of Crowborough shot him a nasty glare which he didn't appear to notice. Lady Susannah blushed a delicate pink.

'Lady Edith, I did enjoy your latest article about the effect that liberalism has had on society,' Mr Napier said. I had the feeling he was changing the subject. 'It was controversial but quite refreshing. You make a fine writer.'

Lady Edith grinned modestly. 'Thank you very much, Mr Napier.'

I kept thinking about Thomas throughout dinner, seeing the pain in his eyes after I told him that anything between us was physical. It was, though, wasn't it? I couldn't be sure of what it was supposed to be, but whenever it hit me that Thomas might never speak to me again I was drowned in wave of suffocating sadness.

'James, are you quite alright?' his lordship asked suddenly with genuine concern. 'You look rather ashen!'

'Yes, thank you, my lord, I'm quite well,' I said hurriedly.

'Nonsense, James, you look terrible,' her ladyship added. 'You must go to bed at once, Carson will take over!'

Carson imperiously swooped in, relieved me of my tray and dismissed me with his eyebrows.

'Thank you,' I said gruffly, bowing out of the room.

I would have rather stayed; other people were a useful distraction from my own dark thoughts. It was still too early to be tired, so I simply lay on my bed and stared upwards, fighting the overwhelming urge to cry. I failed, of course, as I had been doing regularly recently, and tears ran furiously down my face until, eventually, exhausted, I fell asleep, still fully dressed.

The next day, my head pounded from having cried too much, and I tried to keep myself busy. I'm not usually the sort of person who goes out of my way to find work, but I needed something to do at that moment, and ended up volunteering to do tasks that I would usually shy away from. Mr Carson, who thought I was trying to make up for the inconvenience I had caused the previous night, approved.

I was clearing empty glasses from the library when the Duke of Crowborough swanned in lazily as though he owned the place.

'Begging your pardon, your grace, I didn't think anyone would be using this room,' I said quietly.

'That's quite alright,' he said with a wide and dashing smile. 'I never mind the presence of footmen, you lot decorate the place so well that I'm always rather charmed to come across one unexpectedly. On the other hand, there's nothing more dispiriting than walking in on a scullery maid scrubbing away at the grate.'

I nodded, not sure what to say, and continued picking up the rest of the glasses.

'Have you quite recovered from yesterday?' the Duke asked.

'Yes, thank you, my grace,' I said.

He laughed to himself. 'You lie quite fluidly. You're not recovered – I recognise heartache when I see it, and that doesn't heal overnight.'

I was shocked to be spoken to so frankly by an aristocrat about such a thing, and even more shocked that one would be taking an interest in my personal life.

'I'm right, aren't I?' he said smoothly, sitting down on an armchair and crossing his legs. 'I do wonder what it could be. Surely you can't have been rejected, not one so fair as you. So tell me, who is she?' he winked cheekily and leaned forward. 'Or he?'

The fact that my face burned hotter than bonfire must have been a giveaway.

'Another man, I take it,' the Duke mused, raising an elegant eyebrow. 'Lucky him!'

I looked down, my embarrassment hitting its pinnacle. The Duke looked a little sympathetic.

'I'm sorry if I'm making you uncomfortable, but you really shouldn't mind me. I'm a terrible flirt, as everyone knows. My wife hates it, and my boyfriend isn't too keen on it either, but I just can't help myself,' he said with a _mea culpa_ shrug.

I'd never heard anyone talk so freely about that sort of thing. I supposed that it must be a wonderful thing to be so powerful that you weren't afraid of anything, not even the law.

I looked down, tears pricking at my eyes from the realisation that, like everything else in life, inclinations were so much easier to fulfil for the rich than the poor.

'What's the matter?' the Duke asked gently.

I shook my head.

'Lunch isn't for two hours, you won't be missed,' he reminded. 'Please, sit down, tell me.'

So I did, sitting gingerly on the ottoman and pouring my twisted, little heart out.

I'd only just arrived back at Downton, fresh with excitement and knowing exactly what I would say to Thomas to heal things between us and make him love me again. I looked around hopefully, but was waylaid in my search by Cillian.

He grabbed my arm and pulled me to one side.

'You need to come with me,' he said bracingly. His hand squeezed my shoulder supportively, making my heart turn cold.

He led me outside, where Daisy and Ivy were sitting on a low wall behind the woodshed. Daisy was hugging Ivy, who was shaking quietly, her head in her hands. As we approached, Ivy glanced up at the sound of our footsteps; tears stained her cheeks with glistening tracks.

'Jimmy,' she choked tearfully. 'I'm pregnant. What are we going to do?'

Numbly, I sat down on the wall next to her. 'It's okay,' my voice said, sounding very far away, a voice which barely sounded like my voice. 'I'll look after you.'


	13. Unlucky

Chapter Thirteen: Unlucky

I felt numb all day. Ivy was pregnant. I was overwhelmed. What had I done? I remembered promising to look after her, to sort things out, and of course there was only one way to sort things out. We would have to get married, and soon.

I had a friend who'd got his girl pregnant a couple of years earlier. He was a shifty, sly little bugger, but he was good for a couple of beers and a chat. When Catharine had fallen pregnant, he decided that, rather than doing the honourable thing, he would scarper. A couple of days later, he disappeared, leaving Catharine all alone. We were all sympathetic, but none of us could do anything to help her. Fairly soon, her condition was clear for all to see; despite the increasingly loose and baggy dresses she wore to mask her stomach, she couldn't stop the gradual swell from catching everyone's eye. Panicked, she started hunching over as she walked, but she couldn't hide it from the beady-eyed housekeeper forever. She was thrown out, of course, and the poor thing had no family, so all in all she was pretty destitute. We never found out what became of her, but I remembered with sharp clarity the way she walked past us with her small carpet bag, her eyes wide and dead like ghost eyes. I could never do that to Ivy. However horrified I was by the whole thing, I could never put her in that situation.

It was late, and I should have gone to bed, but even getting out of my chair seemed to require more energy than I had to give.

Cillian sat down opposite me. Wordlessly, he unscrewed the top off a bottle of whisky and clonked a couple of glasses down on the table, filling both with a generous amount of liquid.

'There you go, mate,' he said.

'Thanks,' I muttered gratefully.

We didn't say anything, but the silence was comfortably heavy. Just being in the presence of a sympathetic human being was a soothing balm for me, and the whisky was just what the doctor ordered.

We had a glass each and went to bed; I had reached hopefully for the bottle, intending to have one more, but Cillian pulled it away and shook his head.

'No, that won't help. Get to bed with you,' he said firmly. I nodded with agreement and made my way upstairs. It was probably for the best. If I'd let myself drink as much as I wanted, I would have ended stumbling into Thomas' room and throwing myself into his arms, wailing in a most undignified manner. This wasn't his burden to bear, though, it was mine, and I had to cope with the consequences.

The next day, Daisy managed to get me alone.

'How are you? You look in shock?' she whispered, glancing over to check that Mrs Patmore wasn't listening.

'I don't know,' I said truthfully. I had no idea how I was doing because I was numb.

She patted my arm sympathetically. 'It'll be alright. I know you're both really young, but you love each other. When you're married and Ivy's had the baby, you'll be so over the moon that you'll forget how you even got there!' she said encouragingly. I wondered whether she believed that or whether she was being upbeat for my sake.

'Have you booked the church yet?' she asked.

'Not yet,' I whispered back. 'I'm going to Malton tomorrow. I've got the afternoon off so I'm heading up there and speaking to the pastor.' Daisy nodded approvingly. 'We're going to need witnesses on the day. I'm not sure when it'll be yet, but if you're free, do you think you and Cillian could come with us? Seeing as you already know?'

It was a practical decision rather than sentimental, but Daisy still looked very touched.

'Course we will!' She thought for a bit before adding. 'Have you spoken to Ivy properly yet? I mean, apart from a couple of days ago when me and Cill were there?'

'No,' I muttered ruefully. 'I know we need to have a proper talk about it, but we're both in such a mess right now. I'll talk to her after I've booked the church, then we can have a good chat and start making plans. You won't tell anyone, will you?' I checked anxiously, and Daisy shook her head.

'Course not!'

I smiled a thank you and left the room. Through the window, I could see Ivy standing on her own in the courtyard, leaning against the wall, staring up at the sky. I should have gone out and put my arm around her, but I didn't feel I had the strength to do so, not yet. I sighed and carried on with my work, Mr Carson's voice already booming out in search of me.

I was distracted from my own emotional turmoil by a rather entertaining scene at dinner. It was just the family, along with the Dowager Countess and Mrs Crawley, so Lady Edith seemed to have thought that it was an opportune moment to reveal her grand plans to the family.

'Listen, everyone,' she said, visibly bracing herself for the tempestuous reaction that she would receive. 'As you all know, I'm leaving for London tomorrow and there's something you need to know before I go.' She inhaled deeply. 'I know you're going to find it difficult to understand and I originally considered not telling you, but Mary pointed out to me that you were bound to find out from gossip, so it's better if you hear it from me.'

Lady Mary gave her sister a dark 'don't drag me into this' look. Everyone in the family was looking at Lady Edith with poised wariness.

'I'm not going to stay with Aunt Rosamund. Mr Gregson has asked me to live with him, and I have agreed to do so.'

The effect on the room was rather amusing; Lady Mary closed her eyes, his lordship was too stunned to be outraged, her ladyship started trembling and Mrs Crawley looked rather interested. I feared Carson might have needed medical assistance as he grasped his chest in obvious distress at the turn of events.

'Carson, some brandy,' the Dowager Countess said faintly. 'Make sure it's the strong stuff.'

By the time I got down to the kitchen, everyone was looking at each other with the sort of utter glee that only ever comes from a particularly juicy slice of gossip.

'I take it everyone knows?' I said, sitting down at the table.

'I never would have imagined Lady Edith as a scarlet woman,' one of the housemaid gushed, taking advantage of the fact that Mr Carson and Mrs Hughes weren't in the room.

'Don't speak like that about our employers,' Thomas told her sharply. He must have started taking his position as under-butler seriously; it wasn't like him to defend the honour of the family.

'Just because they can't sign some stupid piece of paper, doesn't mean they can't be happy together. Who cares what everyone else thinks if they're in love?' There was a slightly angry twist in his voice, but I don't think anyone else heard it; they all thought he was just being soppy.

'Why, Mr Barrow, you're a proper romantic, you are!' the housemaid giggled, and Alfred sneered openly.

As I passed by Thomas on the way to the bathroom that night, I ignored the swooping pain in my heart which begged me to reach out and hold him.

He grabbed my arm and studied my eyes. 'What's wrong? You look terrible, you've looked awful all day,' he said, concerned.

'That's charming!' I said. 'I don't insult you on the way to take a piss.'

'Jimmy,' he said, shaking his head. 'Don't be childish!'

'I thought you weren't speaking to me,' I said coldly.

He sighed. 'I'm still bloody angry with you, but I'll never stop caring about you, so can you please tell me why you look like you've been given a death sentence?'

'Well, you better learn to stop caring about me. I'm marrying Ivy.'

He huffed in annoyance. 'This old rubbish again.'

'No,' I told him, shaking my head. Miraculously, I managed to retain my composure while doing so. 'I mean we're getting married as soon as we can. I'm going to Malton tomorrow to speak to the church.'

'What?' Thomas said incredulously.

'The choice has been taken out of my hands,' I said simply. Comprehension dawned in his eyes and he nodded; he understood that I had to do the right thing by Ivy. He then laughed, which I didn't expect.

'Congratulations,' he said. 'It's what you always wanted. Not having to make the choice was what you always wanted.'

He walked back to his room, leaving me feeling cold. Was he right? Was it what I wanted?

_No_ something screamed inside me defiantly. Too late, I told myself dully. It's what I've got.


	14. Scarlet Letter

Chapter Fourteen: Scarlet Letter

_In the kitchen. Late. Dark. Only a flickering candle bounces light off us, dancing on our skin. I marvel at the hues and shadows it throws on Thomas' body._

_Without warning, he leans over, blows it out. I can't see him now, but I can feel his breath tracing my skin, making me tingle. His face hovers close to mine in the darkness for an age, as though daring me to kiss him._

_He dodges my kisses at first, laughing to himself at the pressing need which so evidently haunts me. Somehow, he's slipped past me, so that he's standing behind me, his fingers digging into my hips._

'_So eager!' he mocks deliciously. I lean back against his chest, wanting to feel his body. His right hand abandons my hip and snakes forward, wriggling under my shirt and gliding across my stomach. His left hand ventures further up, along my chest. _

_He tugs me back towards him suddenly._

'_You feel good,' he whispers._

'_There's more of me to feel,' I offer, exhilarated by his arousal. He laughs again, kissing the back of my neck, drawing one hand up to caress my hair._

'_Really?' he says. 'How much is there?'_

'_Everything,' I murmur, pushing myself back into him like a cat trying to get itself petted. 'Everything I have to offer, you can have. I promise.'_

_His hands are on the move again. Undoing my trousers deftly, he rests a hand on my bum, languidly running a finger up one cheek._

At that point, Alfred woke me up by throwing a shoe at my head.

'Time to wake up,' he said.

I could have killed him.

'Couldn't have waited a bit longer?' I said bitterly. 'I was having a wonderful dream.'

' 'Bout what?'

'I- I was in a room full of naked girls,' I overcompensated wildly. 'They all had big breasts.' Alfred grunted with approval.

The whole morning, I was on edge, knowing that I would be off to Malton in a few short hours. It didn't help that I couldn't stop myself from blushing whenever I walked past Thomas, as though afraid he could see what kind of thoughts I was having about him. I'd not dared try and visit him since Ivy's pregnancy had come to light. Not only was I ashamed to face him, but it wouldn't have been right. I'd made my bed, so I would just have to lie in it, no matter how lumpy and uncomfortable it might be.

'That'll do, James,' Carson said magnanimously after lunch was served to the family. 'You may have your afternoon off.' His tone suggested he was bequeathing the family silver to me.

'Thank you, Mr Carson.'

I hurried upstairs to get changed into my normal clothes, and lay down for a few seconds on the bed, practising what I would say to the pastor; something which would let him know that we wanted to wed as quickly as possible, but didn't let on that Ivy was in the family way. After reflection, I realised that there wasn't really a way, unless I was fortunate enough to have a particularly naive pastor.

I sighed and turned my head sideways. On my dresser, just behind my lamp, where it couldn't be seen unless your head was actually on my pillow, I'd propped up my little unicorn. It seemed like a thousand lifetimes ago that I'd been given him. He looked back at me with cool judgement, because unicorns are pure and gentle creatures which would never get nice girls into trouble.

'Stop staring at me,' I whispered. 'I didn't do it on purpose!'

I realised that I had reached a new level of madness and that I should stop talking to a toy unicorn and sort my life out.

Fortunately, I managed to get hold of the pastor. Unfortunately, it wasn't the good-natured, unworldly pastor I had hoped for, but a shrewd old man whose Carson-esque eyebrows lifted in disapproval when I said that we should like to get married at his earliest convenience. I twisted my cap in my hands guiltily as the pastor shook his head.

'Very well,' he said gravely, and Ivy and I were booked in for a date three weeks later. I walked back to the bus stop with my feet feeling like lead, like I'd been given the date for my hanging.

Despite my best intentions, there wasn't time to speak to Ivy that day. I'd managed to whisper quietly to her that it was all booked, but there wasn't time for a real conversation.

'February fifth,' I said quickly, taking a tray of fancy French appetizers off her. She smiled bracingly. She looked awful, as though she hadn't slept in a week, and I was briefly distracted from my own misery.

'Stop making eyes at each other and do your job!' Mrs Patmore warned me.

The next day, I hurried downstairs early so I would have a chance to speak to Ivy. I found her cutting up bread for the servants' breakfast. Thankfully, the only other person in the kitchen was Daisy, who knew everything anyway.

'How are you feeling?' I asked anxiously.

She shrugged. 'Awful,' she stated.

'Look, after we're married, we can tell Mr Carson and Mrs Hughes that we're so in love that we got married on a spur of the moment. They'll be angry, but they might keep us on. We can make the argument that they gave Mr and Mrs Bates a cottage, so why not us!'

Ivy didn't look any more cheered, and I wasn't sure what more to say to make her feel better about our predicament. Daisy shot me a deeply sympathetic glance.

At breakfast, I had a letter. Mr Carson looked surprised and confused as he handed it to me, as I had no immediate family. I was just as surprised as he was, turning it over in my hands, wondering who it could be.

As I reached up for more toast, I caught sight of Thomas' expression from the seat opposite me. His eyes were filled with horror. Shooting me a look of pure contempt, he stood up without saying anything and walked off.

'What was that about?' Mr Moseley asked.

I wanted to follow him, but didn't think it would be the most subtle thing in the world to do. After a couple of minutes, I felt it safe to give an excuse.

I found him outside, smoking furiously.

'I don't want to speak to you,' he said flatly.

'What? What have I done? Why did you storm off like that?'

'Don't act innocent!' he snapped. 'I know who you're writing to! I recognise his handwriting.'

I realised what he was talking about. 'My letter. But I haven't been writing to anyone,' I said, still confused. 'I don't know who the letter's from!'

He laughed harshly. 'So this is the first time he's writing to you? It'll be all sweet nothings and promises.'

'What?' I was more confused than ever.

He sighed impatiently, as though I was being stupid on purpose. His voice was shaking with anger when he said his next words: 'That letter's from bloody Crowborough!'

'The Duke of Crowborough?'

'No,' Thomas answered sarcastically. 'Mr Crowborough the local butcher. 'Course it's the damn Duke. I suppose you met in London. I was giving you the cold shoulder, so you got it somewhere else!' he spat. 'If it's just sex, what's the difference?'

'No!' I said tearfully. It was the stress of the past few days making me so upset, but Thomas must have read the tears as guilt. He stabbed his cigarette out on the wall, and went back inside. God, I didn't think I could take any more of this.

I pulled the letter out of my pocket. In spite my anxiety, I couldn't help but be curious about the letter.


	15. Truth in the Dark

Truth in the Dark

_Dear James,_

_I do hope you shall forgive me for breaching convention and presuming to write to you. I have, however, found myself quite desperately curious about your 'romantic situation', shall we say? I should like to know whether you have taken my advice and whether you have resolved things with your beau. My dearest boy, __do__ write back to me, as I am positively on pins and needles wondering what is going on!_

_Yours truly,_

_The Duke of Crowborough_

_Your Grace,_

_I am very flattered that you have written to me and have invested such emotion into my well-being. Unfortunately, things are not going as well as I would hope – the object of my affection is still very angry with me and, worse than that, I have ended up getting engaged to a girl,_

_Yours truly,_

_James_

_Dear James,_

_I say, old chap, just because one man rejects you, does not mean that you have to swear off us altogether. Marrying a woman is rather an extreme reaction, do you not think? I strongly advise that you revise your current plan of action and find some other means of healing your broken heart. Would it be boorish of me to mention that I shall be in Yorkshire next week and would be quite delighted to soothe your grief?_

_Yours truly,_

_The Duke of Crowborough_

_Your Grace,_

_While I appreciate the gesture, I am not in fact marrying Ivy as a result of being rejected by my former lover. I am marrying her because she is in the pudding club and I must stand by her._

_Yours truly,_

_James_

_Dear James,_

_Drat and fiddlesticks! That is bad news for you. I must point out, however indelicate it may be to do so, that it is probably a good thing that you are subject to homosexual inclinations. Had you been a 'ladies' man', then what with your sultry good looks and clearly rampant fertility, you would have had half the lasses in the North of England in trouble by now!_

_Chin up, you can always have a little something on the side!_

_Yours truly,_

_The Duke of Crowborough_

I found the Duke's last letter less than helpful. Although I hadn't expected him to whip out a magic wand and de-impregnate Ivy, I still rather hoped that he might have offered some more practical advice.

I put the letter away.

Thomas had rather skilfully avoided being in the same room with me recently unless there was a third person present, so I had little opportunity to convince him that the Duke of Crowborough and I were not in fact lovers. He didn't even smoke alone anymore; he'd taken to having a cigarette with that manipulative, malevolent, wizened old crone with the batshit crazy hair.

'Why is Mr Barrow spending time with Miss O'Brien all of a sudden?' I mused aloud in the servants' hall. 'I thought they couldn't stand each other.'

'They've had problems the past couple of years, but they were good friends back in the day,' Mrs Bates told me. 'They were like a double act.' She frowned. 'I'm not sure if it's a good thing that they're back on speaking terms. It's nice not to have them at each other's throats, but they can be a bad influence on each other a lot of the time.'

I thought that O'Brien would have been a bad influence on St Peter had they ever met.

'Only a few more days to go,' I said to Ivy encouragingly.

She nodded. 'It'll be a relief to be finally married.'

''Course it will!' I said, forcing my mouth into a smile.

'Jimmy!' Cillian cornered me in the early afternoon. 'We're going down the pub later, I've squared it with Carson.'

I laughed. 'How did you manage to do that?'

'Spun him a little story about how we're all feeling tired and stressed recently and if we could only be given a couple of hours to blow off some steam, it would do us the world of good.'

'But why?'

He looked more serious than I'd ever seen him. 'I'd not forgive myself if you started married life without a proper stag party to send you on your way!'

I laughed. 'Thanks!'

A few of us left after the upstairs family had been adequately fed and watered, Carson's usual warnings about moderation ringing in our ears.

Alfred and John made a beeline for the bar and had finished their beers almost before we'd taken our coats off and settled down.

'Can I just warn you now that I am not cleaning up anyone's sick?' Cillian sighed, but he looked amused. They ignored him.

'You look bloody awful mate,' Cillian told me quietly while the rest of them were distracted. 'I know the situation isn't ideal, but surely it can't be that bad.'

I shook my head. 'It's nothing. It's just-' I faltered. 'It's just that I know it can't be a happy marriage between us. I'm not complaining, because I know that it's absolutely my fault.'

'Sounds like you need to get hammered, good and proper,' Cillian said.

'You said it wouldn't help,' I reminded wryly.

'Well, no. But if there's a night to do it, it's tonight,' he said. 'Next round's on me.'

'Okay,' I agree. 'But you have to promise to stop me if I look as though I'm about to do anything stupid. I don't have a good track record with alcohol.'

Cillian grinned. 'I have an excellent relationship with alcohol, but that might be just because I'm Irish.'

I didn't do anything too ridiculous that night, well, not until I got home anyway. Thomas' door was locked again, but I spent a good ten minutes trying to unpick the lock before the door swung open suddenly, revealing a glaring Thomas.

'What the bloody hell are you up to? You're making a racket!'

'Sorry,' I mumbled, unfocussed.

He groaned, leant against the doorframe. 'You're drunk again.'

'Miss you,' I whispered. 'And I'm tired.'

He shook his head. I must have been talking more loudly than I realised, because Carson's door started to open. Thomas grabbed me suddenly and yanked me inside before Carson saw us, closing the door.

Thomas smelled so good in the dark and I couldn't stop myself putting my arms around him, drinking him in. I, unfortunately, probably didn't smell quite so nice, probably like a brewery.

'Jimmy,' Thomas groaned gently.

'Please don't send me away!' I pleaded.

'I can't do this, though. I care about you too much to want to share you, least of all with Crowborough. I know that you want to keep things just physical, but I can't.'

If I'd been sober, I might have been able to argue my point, been able to convince him that I was confused and angry with the world when I had said those things, that I loved him more dearly than I had loved anything, and I might have been able to tell him exactly what had happened between the Duke and myself. But I couldn't, I could barely string a sentence together.

'It sounds like Carson's gone back to bed,' Thomas said abruptly. 'You ought to do the same.' He opened his door and sent me away.

Cillian came out of the bathroom at that moment, looking utterly shocked. He cleared his throat, embarrassed.

'Well, this explains a lot,' he said eventually.


	16. The Darkest of Hours

Chapter Sixteen: The Darkest of Hours

**Due to CS, this is pretty much AU, but I'm just going to carry on as though that little episode didn't happen **

I went out to the garage, where Cillian was tinkering with the engine, with the intention to gauge how much he had seen or heard the previous night and what he intended to do with that information.

'You shouldn't really be in here wearing your livery,' Cillian called without turning around. 'If you get oil on it, Carson will hit the roof.'

'I suppose you're right,' I muttered sheepishly.

He turned around, grabbing an old cloth which was hanging off the side of the car, and wiped oil off his forearms.

'The thing is-' I started.

Cillian cut me off. 'I'm not going to start shouting my mouth off,' he told me abruptly.

That pretty much answered the question of how much he knew or had figured out.

'Thank you,' I said quietly. I was too afraid to look him in the eyes. I'd come to respect and like the chauffeur over the past few months and knew that, due to current circumstances, he could not respect me back. It was a feeling I supposed I ought to get used to.

'I'm sorry you had to see that,' I said, smiling humorously. 'It's not as though I _want_ to be _like that_,' I said, careful to avoid specifics.

Cillian exhaled impatiently. 'Look, I don't know anything about that sort of thing and, to be honest, I'd rather not know anything about it. So what with not knowing anything, I'm pretty sure I can't have an opinion about it. It wouldn't be my place to have one. Can we leave it at that?' he asked.

I nodded, relieved.

'So,' he said, breaking out in a massive grin. 'How's your head feeling today? Do you remember falling off the table in the pub yesterday after you'd climbed up to perform a rather touching rendition of 'Molly Malone' in one of the most awful attempts at an Irish accent that I've ever heard?'

I groaned. 'I thought I'd dreamt that. I'm sorry!'

'I forgive you,' he said seriously. 'But I'm not sure Dublin will.'

He leant against the car, looking torn.

'Can I tell you something?' he said hesitantly.

'What is it?' I asked.

'I feel bad bringing this up with you at the moment, but I needed to tell someone. The situation between you and Ivy made me realise how excited I am at the prospect of getting married. I'm going to ask Daisy to marry me,' he said with a shy smile.

'That's great,' I said, genuinely pleased for him.

'Will you be the best man? I mean, if she says yes.'

I was flattered. 'Yes, of bloody course!' I said. 'And she will say yes, you two are made to be together!' I clapped an encouraging hand on his shoulder.

I was glad that Cillian and I were still friends; I never needed one more.

I headed back into the kitchen to start taking the breakfast up for the family. Glancing down at the morning paper and seeing the date, I realised with a sickening jolt that I would be getting married the following morning. Time seemed to be in free fall, streaming past my ears, and I was waiting for the collision.

I finally managed to get Thomas alone that evening, when he was outside, smoking, of course.

I approached nervously. I wasn't sure what I was expecting from the conversation. We both knew that I was marrying Ivy and whatever had been between us was effectively over, but I just needed to know that he didn't hate me. I needed a sort of peace to make it all bearable.

He glanced at me furtively as I neared, settling as close to him as I dared.

'Ready for tomorrow?' he asked casually, as though we were engaging in unimportant small talk. He looked neutral.

'Please don't be angry at me anymore,' I asked him quietly.

He shook his head. 'I'm not, I'm really not. I understand why you did what you did, and it has to be admitted that you've had some pretty severe bad luck. I hope it works out as best it can,' he said nicely. 'Ivy's a nice girl. She'll be good company and she can cook. What more can you ask for?' he said jokingly.

I attempted a small smile.

Thomas went back inside and I didn't stop him because there was nothing more to be done.

My feelings of insurmountable despair seemed to be mirrored in the general mood of the Crawley family that evening. It had transpired that one of Lady Mary's more gossipy 'friends' had seen Lady Edith with Gregson, and now, all 'decent people' knew about it. Scandal was no longer imminent, it was upon them. His Lordship looked as though he was considering filling his pockets with stones and walking into the nearest pond.

'Well, Lady Edith is making a wonderful career for herself with the paper. Everyone I know reads her articles,' Mrs Crawley said with her usual knack for trying to make things better and failing miserably. Everyone shot her a pained look.

I spoke to Mrs Bates about it later. Something about her always seemed to invite confidence for some reason.

'The family won't really disown Lady Edith, will they?' I asked her.

She smiled at my badly-hidden concern. 'It's a shock to them. Some of them won't get over it, but they'd never turn her away if she comes back to Downton. Besides – and I shouldn't be telling you this,' she warned severely 'so don't you go repeating it! But Lady Mary and Mr Matthew are going to go down to London after the baby is born and they're going to stay with Lady Edith for a couple of days, to show solidarity.'

I smiled. 'That's good!'

I went to bed, expecting not to sleep a wink, but I was dead to the world the second I closed my eyes. Before I'd even fully relaxed, the hall boy was rapping our door, telling us it was time to get up. I felt sick.

'What are you going to do today with your time off?' Alfred asked conversationally as he got dressed.

'Never mind,' I roared. It was an overreaction, but I wasn't feeling at my most stable at that moment. Alfred just blinked, too shocked to even be angry that I'd screamed at him.

I sat on my bed for a bit after Alfred had left the room to start work, trying to wrestle my panic under control. I held my unicorn in my hands for some ridiculous reason, as though that could help.

Someone knocked my door. I glanced quickly at the mirror and decided that I didn't look as though I was about to burst into tears too much.

'Come in,' I said.

It was Thomas. He sat down next to me on the bed.

I wondered why he'd come, but he kissed me before I could ask. It was a deep, meaningful kiss, a slow dancing of our lips. His hands gripped the back of my neck at first, and then, as we broke apart, trailed under my jaw and caressing the side of my face.

'I just wanted one last kiss to say goodbye,' he explained sadly. Why did he have to do this? Why did he have to come and break my heart again just now?

He pulled me into a rough hug, his strong arms engulfing me. For a tiny fraction of time, I felt utterly safe and protected, but then he let me go, and I felt lost again.

'I wish I could fix this for you,' he said. 'I wish I could save you.'

He noticed the unicorn in my hands and laughed a little. 'You kept it,' he said.

I nodded. 'I wish it had real magic powers,' I said a little wistfully. 'I could use some wishes!'

Thomas sniffed and lowered his head automatically, shielding his vulnerability as he always did. 'You should probably get dressed,' he advised.

Bizarrely, he shook my hand before leaving, but maybe saying goodbye was so awkward because it wasn't supposed to be happening.

There was no holding it off any longer; I reached for my best suit (my only suit) and started to get dressed, my fingers shaking as I did my tie.

I had a second visitor in my room, a gentle, soft knock that I barely heard.

It was Ivy. She looked an absolute wreck, shaking all over.

'I shouldn't even be in here,' she said with a watery smile. 'Mrs Hughes will kill me.'

I went over to her and put an arm around her, leading her to the bed to sit her down.

'Are you okay?' I asked. I realised that she wasn't dressed. I didn't think she would have managed to make a wedding dress at such short notice, but I assumed that she would have put on her Sunday frock which she wore to church, but she was just wearing her usual clothes.

'We- we're not going to get married,' she rasped under her breath, clasping her hands together on her lap.

'But,' I started, confused. 'But the baby?'

Tears welled in her eyes as she shook her head violently, then she buried her face in her hands.


	17. Dark Secret

Chapter Seventeen: Dark Secret

After about a minute of Ivy crying, I couldn't hold back my question any longer.

'You've – you've lost the baby?' I asked in a strangled, shocked voice.

She shook her head, eyes squeezed shut.

'Then what do you mean?' I asked. 'I couldn't duck out of marrying you if you're carrying my child.'

Her tear-stained face turned to me. 'There never was a baby,' she whispered.

It took a while for my brain to understand what she had said.

Ivy wasn't pregnant and never had been pregnant. It was all a lie.

We didn't speak for the longest time, just sat side by side as I wondered how anyone could be so deceitful.

'Jimmy,' Ivy hiccoughed eventually, placing her hand on top of mine. I whipped my hand away as though I'd been burned, stood up and started pacing back and forth.

_Ivy wasn't pregnant and never had been pregnant. It was all a lie. _

'You were trying to trick me!' I hissed at her, feeling furious and self-righteous. All of a sudden, I wasn't the bastard who'd taken advantage of a nice girl, I was the victim, and the moral high ground went straight to my head.

She glanced up at me. 'If I was trying to trick you, why would I be telling you the truth now?' she asked, her voice hollow.

I opened my arms in an exaggerated shrug, making a 'who knows' gesture.

'So explain it then!' I demanded harshly. 'Why did you lie to me?'

She looked so dejected and hopeless that some of my fury leaked away.

'I never meant to hurt you,' she started, touching my hand gently again, and this time I didn't move it away. 'I told you that I was going to have a baby because I wanted to know if you really loved me. I wanted to know what your reaction would be if we had to get married. I knew that if we were right for each other, then you would be pleased. You'd be scared at first, but after the shock wore off, you'd be happy that we'd be starting a family, you'd be coming up with baby names and hugging me all the time. But you didn't react that way, though.'

'I thought the world was over,' I muttered to myself. It might have been a harsh thing to say, but it wasn't anything that Ivy hadn't already observed herself. She nodded unhappily.

'I kept waiting for some sort of change, but I realised soon enough that it would never come. You weren't in love with me, and that was the simple truth of the matter.'

She squeezed my hand a little tighter. 'I never would have married you under false pretences. Even if you'd been over the moon, I would have told you the truth.

But it was so hard being in love with you and suspecting that you didn't feel the same way, and I couldn't bear years of uncertainty. I needed to know how you felt. And,' she glanced over to me quickly. 'I think you needed to know how you felt, too. Now you do.'

I nodded, my anger having completely evaporated and, having no more moral high ground, I was the bastard again.

'I'm so sorry,' I muttered. I had never felt more ashamed of myself.

'I know,' Ivy said. 'I know you're sorry.'

'I wanted so much for us to be right for one another,' I said earnestly, trying to make excuses for myself.

'You can't help how you feel,' she said. 'Neither can I. For whatever reason, you couldn't love me.'

I wanted to tell her that it wasn't because of her, it was because of me, but it would have sounded insincere and feeble, so I left it at that.

'You know,' I told her thoughtfully. 'Alfred really isn't so bad. Just something for you to think about,'

She looked at me with incredulity then we both started giggling a little maniacally. We were so glad to have a reason to laugh instead of cry for once.

I hugged her before she left.

'I'll sort it out at the church,' I told her. 'I'll tell the pastor it was a false alarm.'

Ivy nodded. 'I'll tell Daisy. She'll be so disappointed, bless her, she was really looking forward to the wedding.'

I made my way over to the church, freed from shackles and so happy that not even the pastor's coolly disapproving disdain could mar my good mood.

'I'll probably see you again in a few months,' he said sarcastically as I left.

As it was an unusually mild and bright day for early February and I had plenty of time to spare, I decided to walk back, formulating what exactly I would say to Thomas when I got back.

_Take me now, you sexy beast_ – no, that sounded a bit too desperate.

It was probably just my imagination, but spring seemed to start early that day, a warm breeze from the south blowing and the earliest bluebells cropping up from the grass.

'You're back early,' Mrs Patmore commented as I entered the kitchen. 'You said you'd be gone all day!'

I shrugged. 'Decided I enjoyed your company too much to bear to be away for a whole day,' I said sweetly. Daisy giggled and rolled her eyes.

'You've not been drinking, have you?' Mrs Patmore asked sharply.

I noticed something glint in the light as Daisy chopped up the parsley. A modest band of silver shone on her finger.

'Why Daisy,' I teased. 'I do believe you have something to tell us!'

She blushed scarlet, thrilled. 'You're the first to notice,' she burst happily, displaying her hand for the whole kitchen to see. I doubt that any of the high society ladies took as much pride in their miniature icebergs as Daisy did in her little ring. 'Cillian asked me this morning and I said yes!'

'Daisy, that's wonderful,' Mrs Patmore said warmly, pulling her into a bear hug, much to everyone's surprise.

'Thomas, can I come to you tonight?' I asked him quietly as soon as I managed to find him. He was checking all the silver for the family's evening meal.

He raised an eyebrow.

'I take it that you're not Mr Ivy already?'

'No, we didn't get married, I'll explain it all later,' I said. 'If you let me?'

He laughed cynically. 'And I'm just supposed to take you back as though nothing happened. After what you said to me?'

I bit my lip.

'Something happened in London which made me think,' I said. 'It didn't seem worth me telling you when I thought I had to marry Ivy, but I need to tell you know!'

I could see that I'd piqued his curiosity. He nodded, acquiescing.


	18. And into the Light

Chapter Eighteen: … and into the Light.

**Warning! Lots of 'make-up M' **

I knocked on Thomas' door late that night. He was in his pyjamas but not in bed yet, sitting cross-legged with a book which he snapped closed the second I entered the room. He'd been waiting for me, looking oddly nervous. Sitting there like that in his nightclothes, his hands twisting nervously in his lap, he seemed younger than I'd ever seen him, almost childlike.

'So explain,' he told me softly. I sat down next to him on the bed, stopping myself from jumping on him and having my wicked way with him. We needed to talk first.

'_So, tell me what's wrong,' the Duke said sympathetically._

'_I'm not sure where to start,' I muttered, embarrassed. I was worried he would think I was wasting his time, but I really didn't know what to say. 'I've just been so confused recently about who I am and what I want from life, and I ended up lashing out and hurting somebody very special to me.'_

_The Duke nodded wisely. 'We always hurt the ones we love, it's human nature. I'm terrible for it.'_

_I wondered whether I was allowed to ask him a personal question, but then I thought that we were already having a very personal conversation, so I might as well risk it._

'_Are you in love?' I asked tentatively. The Duke's eyes lit up rather sweetly and I felt myself warming to him._

'_Deeply and blindly,' he said. 'His name is Sullivan, he's my lawyer. We met five years ago when I went to Thimble and Rochdale to get a new lawyer after my last one said he simply couldn't cope with all the scandal anymore. A man in my position is always in need of a good lawyer. Sullivan was only just fresh out of University, and from the moment our eyes met across a stack of legal documents of some description, I knew it was love. Like any couple, we have our ups and downs, but I adore him with all my heart._

_That first day, we went out to lunch. Officially, it was a business lunch, but they knew me at that restaurant and knew to bring me oysters and wine. My heart was bursting with such love that I wanted to tell the whole staff that it wasn't what they thought; it wasn't some other casual fling, but the love of my life._

_Thankfully, the Duchess gave birth to our second son at around that time, so we could happily lead separate lives, knowing we had done our duty, as long as we showed our faces at the occasional dinner party to stop tongues wagging. Sullivan moved into my London house as my 'business advisor'.'_

_Something stirred in me as he spoke of Sullivan with such tenderness, a deep, unspoken longing which I couldn't define._

'_I knew from that first meeting that he would be the last man I ever fell in love with,' the Duke finished, sighing. _

'_You've been in love a lot?' I asked._

_He grinned cheekily. 'Probably more than what is good for me. As a matter of fact, I did fall rather hard for a footman from Downton Abbey a few years ago. Lord Grantham certainly has good taste in footmen,' he said with a nod to me, apparently unable to stop himself being lecherous._

'_Really?'_

'_Yes. His name was Thomas. Things ended rather badly between us, which was a shame. In retrospect, we both could have handled that better.'_

'_Not Mr Barrow?' I asked, taken aback. I would never have imagined that, and my growing fondness for the Duke turned savagely into furious jealousy._

'_Yes, that's the man,' the Duke said brightly, ignorant of my resentfulness. 'Is he still at Downton? He wanted to leave when I knew him.'_

'_He's an under-butler now,' I explained._

_The Duke's face broke into a genuine smile. 'That's excellent, good on him! I'm glad he's done well for himself!' My ill feeling towards the Duke abated somewhat._

'_Anyway, how about your boyfriend?' the Duke asked. 'What's his name?'_

_The pleasant shock of having Thomas referred to as my boyfriend almost made me blurt out the truth before I realised that it might be a bit strange if I admitted it and, worse, it might stop the Duke from wanting to help me._

'_Er, Alfred,' I said, giving the first name which came into my head. 'He's just under me, the second footman.'_

'_I bet he is under you,' the Duke said with a sly grin. With all the strength I had in me, I prayed that the Duke would never come back to Downton Abbey. I should have hated for him to clap eyes on Alfred and think that he was my type._

'_So what did you say to young Alfred to hurt him so?' the Duke continued with concern._

'_I told him that anything between us was just sex,' I said, wincing at the coldness of the words._

_The Duke winced, too. 'And he isn't content with a purely physical liaison?'_

'_No,' I whispered. 'He's got a big heart. I know that he's given me everything.'_

'_So why did you say it? Don't you feel the same?'_

'_I do,' I argued earnestly. 'But, what I meant was that we can't have a proper relationship.'_

'_I'm in a relationship,' the Duke pointed out. 'It's hidden, but it's still real. It's far more real than the relationship I have with my wife.'_

_He gripped my shoulder. 'Take my advice, James: when you strip everything away, love is often the only real thing in this world. Allow yourself to be in love.'_

Thomas and I sat in silence after I had told him everything.

He glanced slyly at me. 'Were you really jealous when the Duke told you we used to be together?'

'Extremely jealous,' I told him. 'I wanted to punch his blue-blooded face. He did help me see clearly, though. I always thought I had to choose between being _this way_ and having a relationship. I didn't realise that I had a relationship. I _have_ one,' I ventured cautiously, 'if you'll take me back?'

Thomas sighed. 'Did you ever really doubt that I would? As though I could say no to you!'

He pulled me towards him slowly and our lips melded together naturally. In that kiss, all my worries dissolved. I couldn't stop myself moaning as he pulled away from me, and he laughed at my impatience.

He stood up. 'I thought it would be a good idea to lock the door,' he pointed out, turning the key. Before he could return to the bed, I had joined him, kissing him brutally, pinning his wrists back onto the door. In delicious reply, I felt his stirring arousal digging into me. It had been over a month since we had been together and I ached for him, my own throbbing erection persistent and obvious.

Thomas' mouth abandoned mine and fell to my neck and I moaned again.

'I love that sound,' he grinned. 'You sound like such a wanton thing!'

'I am a wanton thing when I'm around you,' I reminded sweetly, my hands falling to his hips and tugging him closer to me.

We removed each other's clothes with maximum speed but with minimum grace. He tried not to laugh as I tripped over my pyjama bottoms and fell sprawling on the floor.

'Don't laugh at me!' I demanded, pretending to be offended as I pushed him towards the bed. He sat down automatically as the back of his legs collided with it, and I straddled him, enjoying the effect that it had on him.

'I'd never laugh at you,' he whispered, his voice thick with lust before he kissed me, his tongue invading my mouth. His strong hands ran up my thighs and came to rest on my bum, squeezing, and our erections kept brushing together, sparking frissons of desire in me. Thomas' breath was deep and ragged on my collarbone, his eyes fixed downwards on our bodies.

'You know,' I said thoughtfully. 'I'm pretty sure you promised to show me something last time we were together.'

He glanced up into my eyes, frowning. He didn't remember.

'You said that if I liked, you'd show me what it felt like to have you inside me,' I reminded.

His eyes lit up with eagerness. 'And would you like that?' he teased.

'Hm, let me think about it…' I said with mock thoughtfulness. He dug his fingers more tightly into my bum and I laughed. 'Yes, I would like that very much,' I purred into his ear.

With practised skill, he softly slid two wet fingers inside, rubbing me and opening me gently up. He studied my expression carefully, never breaking eye contact.

'Tell me where it feels good,' he murmured.

'There!' I said with a sharp intake of breath as he touched something unbearably sweet. I shuddered involuntarily as his fingers found it again. Thomas' smiled broadened at my innocence.

'Yes, there it is,' he affirmed, groping me further, maddeningly.

I whimpered in protest when he took his hand away.

He grabbed my hips and lifted me, pulling me forward. My breathing was deep and desperate as he held me there, slightly above him, the damp head of his cock prodding my bum cheek.

'You're sure?' he asked. 'You're ready?'

I nodded fiercely, needing him more than anything.

'Yes,' I groaned. 'Claim me; make me yours.'

He pulled me down on top of him, filling me in a spike of painful pleasure. I let out a cry, gripping the back of his neck as he moved me slowly up and down over him. The slight discomfort soon faded, or perhaps it just paled in comparison to the mounting pleasure that seared through me. I began to take control, increasing the rhythm and closing my eyes and bucking my hips frantically. I wondered distantly, if I seemed wanton before, what on Earth did I seem like now? But I was passed caring and so, it seemed, was Thomas, his blue eyes staring at some point at the ceiling, his chest heaving and his breath shallow. His helpless abandon was all that was needed to wrestle the last of control away from me and I came suddenly and intensely, clutching onto Thomas. With a last groan, he finished inside me, clawing at my shoulders.

We lay down in bed and I rested on his chest, spent and overwhelmed.

'So,' he said. 'Now you know what it feels like.'

'Yes, I do,' I agreed. I lifted my head to look at him, so he would know that I was joking. 'It was alright, I suppose.'

'You cheeky sod, you loved it!' he chided me. 'I thought you were done with hurting my feelings!'

'I'll never be done with teasing you,' I said solemnly, kissing the hot skin of his chest, never wanting to move.

_Epilogue_

_Mrs Hughes and Mr Carson were sharing a sherry before bed._

'_I'm not at all at ease, Mrs Hughes,' he said gruffly. 'I have a feeling that Mr Barrow and James have started to…' his face contorted with pain as he was unable to articulate his fear, much to Mrs Hughes' amusement._

'_Yes, I believe they are lovers,' she said, far too frankly for Carson's liking; his eyebrows expressed their blatant displeasure._

'_Well, the point is that I don't know how to go about handling it. How do I put an end to it?' he implored._

_Mrs Hughes sighed. She knew they were entering dangerous territory and that it was important to proceed with care._

'_Mr Carson, do you really need to handle it? What harm is going to come of it, really?'_

_He huffed. 'You don't think it's unfair to condone it when if a footman had relations with a maid, they'd be sacked!'_

_Mrs Hughes considered._

'_We require the female staff to remain virtuous as much out of common sense as out of morality. Being an unwed mother is not an easy life, and I wish to protect them from that._

_Besides, if one of the maids was walking out with a gentleman caller, I would tell her to wait until she was married before doing anything silly. We can hardly tell Thomas and James that.'_

_Mr Carson grumbled. 'No, we can't.'_

_Mrs Hughes laughed. 'You never know. Perhaps one day, they will be able to get married.'_

_Mr Carson's grave expression clearly suggested that she should not even joke about such things. He finished his sherry with a gulp and went to head upstairs to bed._

'_Oh, and Mr Carson,' Mrs Hughes said lightly, stopping him. 'I've been meaning to tell you for a while that, as he is first footman now, James really ought to have his own bedroom.'_

_Mr Carson glowered at her._

'_Won't that encourage them?'_

_Mrs Hughes just looked innocent and finished her own drink._


End file.
